


Indulgence

by FestiveFerret, One and Five Nines (Obani)



Category: Marvel, Marvel Ultimates
Genre: BDSM, Bathing/Washing, Clothing Control, Cockwarming, Collars, Control, Dom Tony Stark, Feeding, Human Furniture, Internalized Homophobia, Internalized Kinkphobia, Kink, Kink Fic, Light breathplay, M/M, Massage, Mentions of Canon Illness, Non-Sexual Submission, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Painplay, Sex Vacation, Some angst and feels, Spanking, Steve is always fighting with himself, Sub Steve Rogers, Top Tony Stark, Topping from the Bottom, Whipping, just let go and be happy boo, with art
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-07-17 07:12:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 30,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16090646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FestiveFerret/pseuds/FestiveFerret, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Obani/pseuds/One%20and%20Five%20Nines
Summary: All it took was one word from Tony, and Steve fell to his knees, every time.He wished he didn't need this so badly.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This has been in the works for a long time and we're really excited to get to share it with you now! Despite the somewhat tame opening, this is a kink fic, with more porn than plot, so be prepared :D.
> 
> The story is complete, and new chapters will go up as they are ready to post.

Steve paced around his apartment, torturing the pen clutched in his fist until the clip broke clean off and he tossed it away in frustration. He pulled his phone out for the hundredth time.

He only had a handful of contacts listed in it, and of those, only a few ever texted him. Only one with any frequency. He opened his recent messages and the name at the top loomed over him from the tiny phone screen: Tony Stark. And his latest message, sent that morning:

_ 6pm. _

That was all - no instructions, no information. Just a time. Steve checked the clock. It was 5:57pm. He started pacing again. 

He'd packed nothing but what he had in his pockets - his phone, his keys, his wallet - and he tried to sink into that place where he didn't care, where it felt good that he didn't know what was coming. But he couldn't do it on his own; the more he tried to, the more twisted up he felt until he was wound so tight he thought something might snap. What if there was something he needed and he hadn't thought to bring it? He stopped his endless loop in front of the bedroom door. 

_ No,  _ he told himself firmly.  _ Tony always tells you what to bring. _

The ringing of the buzzer shocked him out of his fraught holding pattern and sent him skittering out the door before he realized what his feet were doing. The click of the lock engaging was loud in the empty hallway, but not as loud as his pounding heart. He didn't know what he was going to find waiting for him out front. He took the stairs two at a time, trying to convince himself it was like ripping off a bandaid.

Idling in the  _ No Idling  _ lane was a sleek, black town car, fancy, but unusually understated for Tony. The driver was in the front seat and the back door was open, waiting ominously. The driver didn't step out to close Steve's door or take his bags, which he supposed made sense since he had no bags anyway. 

But the worst part of it was that the car was otherwise empty.

Steve wrestled his immediate frown into something less like a pout and slid into the backseat before he could hesitate. He pulled the door shut and the car started to roll down the drive. 

What Steve had taken for an empty car, actually wasn't. Tony wasn't there - no, apparently Steve wasn't worth joining - but on the seat beside him sat a sleek, black snap-case, the kind jewellers used to display necklaces that cost more than Steve's entire backpay and that Tony bought when he was bored on the internet. Steve knew what was in the case, and he'd have to open it before they arrived at their destination, but not just yet. He couldn't face it just yet. 

The buildings rolled past the windows as they inched their way out of the city. Steve watched them go by without registering what he was seeing. His mind was a whirl of other things, thoughts of Tony, mostly. Of the last time they'd done this… Only it wasn't quite like this, because last time, Tony had been in the car with him.

Steve looked at the closed jewelry case again, a sudden pain in his jaw telling him he was clenching his teeth. As he stared, a wave of nauseous uncertainty washed over him, flushing through his veins until he was overheated, the back of his neck springing up with sweat.

He didn't know what he was supposed to  _ do.  _ That was the whole goddamn point -

His phone rang:  _ Tony Stark _ .

"Hello?" 

"What are you wearing, hot stuff?" Tony purred into the phone, sounding more like one of those late night ads for women than anything else.

Steve's eyes flicked up to where the back of the driver's head poked up over the seat. They hadn't said a word to each other, but he could sense him listening. "Tony." The word was rough and ragged, sounding needy and disgruntled all at the same time, but Tony always had that effect on him. He turned Steve inside out until everything he was feeling was on reckless display. Steve wished for the hundredth time that he didn't need that so badly.

Tony didn't respond to the chastisement, but Steve wasn't so naive as to think he'd ignored it. "How are you feeling?" Tony asked, and this time it was a real question, firm, grounding.

"Confused," Steve said honestly. "Where are you?"

"Who gave you permission to ask?" Tony sounded almost amused, but Steve didn't take that at face value. He fell silent, sure anything he said would be wrong, and after a moment, Tony went on. "There were some things I wanted to get ready. I'll be here when you arrive."

Cool relief washed out the panic still pumping through Steve's veins, and he relaxed against the car seat with a heavy breath. Apparently, that was all he needed to know. He'd assumed Tony would be there - wherever there was - but he'd needed to hear it from Tony himself. Tony would be waiting there, so all Steve needed to do was sit here while they drove. Then Tony would tell him what to do next. 

"Tell me about your day," Tony said.

Steve scoffed. "You want to hear about my day?"

There was a half-beat of rapidly cooling silence. "Yes." 

Steve shivered. There was that tone. Tony could just flip it on at will. Steve had tried, at home, by himself, to close his eyes and hear that voice, usually telling him to sleep, or telling him to let something go, but he couldn't recreate it; his imagination couldn't quite catch the tone. But whenever he heard it, it was like he'd known it all his life. The words dripped down his spine and pooled just behind his belly button, warm and fulfilling, like a hearty meal. "I met with that guy from the new strike team this morning…" Steve started, casting back and reforming the shape of the day in his mind. "Had lunch with Bucky."

"How is he?"

"Fine. He's still having trouble with throat pain from the coughing, but they're trying a new medication."

Tony hummed thoughtfully. "Where were you when you got my text?"

Steve swallowed heavily. There was tiny spark of heat in Tony's cool, calm words. His eyes flicked back up to the back of the driver's head. "I was at the Trisk. Working out with the weapons simulator."

Tony hummed again. "You didn't ding up your pretty exterior, did you?"

Steve flushed hot at being called  _ pretty,  _ almost snapped back, but managed to stop himself and take a breath instead. "No. I'm fine."

"Good. I have plans for that myself. What did you do  _ after  _ you got my text?" Tony asked, purring again, low, vibrating directly into Steve's ear. 

He couldn't get enough oxygen, and he couldn't seem to swallow enough to clear his dry, crackly throat. He gripped the phone harder, just as he had when he'd seen Tony's enigmatic message. At the time, he'd wanted to do five different things at once, one of which was rush into the bathroom and take the edge off. But - "Nothing - I - I couldn't focus anymore so I went home."

"Mmmm. Couldn't stop thinking about me, could you?"

"No."

"Open the case, Steve." The snap of command was back. "I assume you haven't, yet."

"I know what's in it," slipped out before Steve could stop himself, and he could imagine the look Tony would be giving him right now, one eyebrow raised in some combination of surprise, delight, and… whatever the other thing was. The thing that made Tony agree to these weekends of theirs. His tongue caught on an automatic apology, feeling unsure without Tony here to read.

"Open it."

Making Tony repeat himself felt like something he was going to pay for later. Steve reached over and picked up the case. The outside was soft, like velvet, but the case was firm and sturdy. Steve's eyes shot to the rearview again, wondering if the driver was watching. He angled the case towards his chest and popped it open.

It wasn't a necklace; he knew it wouldn't be. It was a dark, brown band of leather, soft and expensive, but thick and sturdy. It had a large metal buckle and from a loop opposite, hung a heavy, gold pendant with the word  _ Steve  _ engraved across it. It looked like the world's most expensive dog collar. But it wasn't for a dog.

Steve had worn it before, knew it would be what he found in the case, but that didn't stop the feverish, hot-cold flush that washed through him at the sight. A throb pumped low in his core, and he shifted in his seat, clenched a fist until the arousal abated. He loved and hated that damn collar. He'd never asked where Tony got it, but there was no doubt it was custom made. Custom made by Tony, for Steve. He ground his teeth together as his thumb curled over the edge of the case to feel where the stiff leather met cool metal. 

"I'm going to put it on you when you get here," Tony said. "Do you want that?"

Steve tried not to want it; he always tried. "Yes."

"Because I don't care about who's in charge with the Ultimates, or who you think you should be dating again, or any of that stuff. For these three days, you're mine, right?"

Steve turned to look out the window. They were surrounded by countryside - he'd missed a whole stretch of highway it seemed. "Yes," he managed. "Yours." For three days. Then he could go back to his normal life. Then he'd get some peace from this throbbing need in the back of his skull. 

That was the deal. Every month or so, he'd get a text and he'd let Tony take him away somewhere, away from where anyone who knew them might find them. And he'd give in, cede control, let Tony… use him, have him.

Every time, he told himself it'd be the last time, that he'd learn to live without it, tell Tony _no_ the next time he texted. And then - he didn't. What he wanted from Tony was sick, and it was horrifying that Tony could tell, could crack him open so easily and see all those twisted, broken desires inside him. And then he _fulfilled_ them, because who better to indulge everything Steve hated about himself than someone just as twisted as the dark corners of his mind.

"Steve?"

Steve snapped back to the car. He'd zoned out, watching the trees flicker by. "Sorry."

Tony's tone shifted slightly. "Are you okay, darling?"

"I'm fine. A bit tired, that's all. It was a long week." Steve huffed a breath. "Would you - could you tell me about your day?"

"Okay. Close your eyes." They snapped shut. "I was woken up by my phone this morning, which is a horrible way to start the day," Tony began.

And on he went. It was mundane, routine, but Tony could make any story sound like an epic tale, and his voice was soothing in Steve's ear. Steve kept one hand on the collar in his lap, fingertips tingling, reminding him of what was to come, but other than that, he focused on nothing but Tony's steady voice.

Tony stayed on the phone with him all the way to their final destination. The car wound up a long drive lined with trees on both sides to reveal a house. It stood perched, not quite on a cliff edge, but hanging over the edge of the mid-rise of a hill, with one side backed up against the rising slope, and the other opening out over a sea of dark green and orange treetops. The outer side was mostly glass, as was the side facing the drive. It was a bungalow, and surprisingly for Tony, not a huge one, but it still managed to have that opulent, extravagant flair that was all Tony.

The front door was open, and in its frame stood the man himself, one shoulder leaning against the wood, one hand holding his phone up to his ear. He was still wearing the suit he'd have been wearing for work that day, though the top button was open and his tie was loosened around his neck. As the car tires crackled over the gravel drive, Tony lowered the phone and Steve heard the beep in his ear that said he'd been hung up on. The car pulled to a halt and Tony sauntered down the steps, hands in his pockets. He waited, eyes fixed on Steve's door.

This was Steve's last chance to back out. Not that Tony wouldn't let him go during the weekend, of course he would, if Steve asked, but because Steve knew that as soon as they shared their first touch, laden with electricity, as soon as Tony's fingers brushed the back of his neck to click the collar into place, Steve would be done. He'd be caught in Tony's orbit again, unable to do anything but spin around him. He looked at the back of the driver's head. He could say, "nevermind," he could say, "take me home." He knew it would work because Tony had told him the first time they'd done this that it would. Last chance to back out.

Steve put his hand on the door handle. 

Tony's smile bloomed real and genuine when Steve stepped out of the car and shut the door behind him. "Hello, my dear."

The pet name set Steve's teeth on edge. He shuffled up to where Tony stood and waited, the open collar case still clutched in one hand. The gravel crunched behind him as the car pulled away and left them alone.

Tony held out his hand without a word and, cheeks heating, Steve dug around in his pockets then handed Tony his phone, wallet, and keys, one at a time. Tony tucked them into his own pockets. He gestured again, and Steve shoved the collar case towards him. Tony pulled the collar out without looking then pressed close enough that Steve had to snap the case shut between them. Tony's heat seared him from head to toe.

"Turn around," Tony muttered.

They were just standing in the middle of the driveway. Steve's eyes darted to the side. There was no one here, but the grounds were huge and sprawling, and Tony was a public figure. A picture of them disappearing into the house together? Explainable. But Tony tightening a collar around Steve's neck... "Tony -" Steve choked out. Couldn't he wait until they were inside?

"Turn around." His tone brokered no argument.

But Steve wasn't in a place yet where it came easy to say yes. He clenched a fist against his thigh, jaw working. Slowly, he spun on his heel until his back was to Tony. He could feel his skin burning, and he fixed his gaze on the ground in front of him, feeling the heat of a hundred imaginary eyes on his skin. He expected Tony's hands on his neck, but instead, Tony's lips pressed to his ear.

"It's just us here, darling. No one else for miles around. Just you and me." Tony pressed firmly against Steve's back, and he could feel every inch of him, firm and unyielding. One hand circled his throat and he swallowed against the light pressure. "I do wish though…" Tony started softly, almost more to himself than to Steve, "that I could show the world how good you are, how obedient, how badly you want it. It's a sight to behold. Wouldn't you like that?"

Steve shifted against Tony, unable to answer. It didn't matter what he'd like or what he wanted; it wasn't possible, would never be possible. No one could know - any of it. 

He couldn't stop his eyes from darting around. He heard a shuffle down the drive and jumped, heart pounding. What if the driver was coming back?

Cool leather settled around Steve's neck, and Tony's deft fingers at his nape, clasping the collar closed, sent a shiver rattling down Steve's spine. His next breath in was easier, despite the new pressure from the collar. The next, easier again.

"Come inside, gorgeous," Tony said. His hand squeezed the back of Steve's neck, and he used the grip to turn him and guide him towards the house. 


	2. Chapter 2

Steve had barely crossed the threshold before Tony's hand was clamping down on the back of his neck, halting his progress.

"Uh uh. No clothes. Strip."

Steve was expecting the order, and the pressure from the collar kept him grounded as he worked his shirt open and dropped his pants. He collected his clothes in his arms, carefully folded, then, when Tony pointed, he tucked them into the nearly empty closet by the front door. 

Tony didn't move, his eyes raking down Steve's body - naked save for the band of leather and metal around his throat. 

Stripping down was one thing - Steve had been in the army, been tested on by the government, so he was used to being naked in front of people - but those eyes on him had been blank, cool, disinterested; Tony's were anything but.

Tony took his time, dancing his gaze over every inch of bare skin Steve had revealed, and it took everything in him not to squirm and shuffle, or try to cover himself. Tony somehow made Steve's nakedness both beautiful and humiliating, and it didn't matter that Tony asked for the same thing every time, Steve would never adjust to the way he felt stripped down bare in front of him.

Tony reached out and ghosted his thumb first across Steve's lips and then down to where the collar hung heavy against his throat. Tony smiled in something like satisfaction and a new kind of pleasure flared up in Steve's stomach: pride. He'd pleased Tony.

"Get me my robe, pet," Tony said, firm but quiet. "Bedroom."

Steve took in the house while he made his way across the living room to the hall Tony gestured towards. The back wall of the living room was a long line of solid glass, doors that opened onto a slate patio with a large, clear blue pool set into it. The kitchen was on one side of the entrance area, the living room on the other. Steve walked past the couch and TV to the hall along the hill-side of the house. There were three doors - the end of the hall was clearly Tony's office - not much more than a desk and computer - the middle door was most likely the bathroom, and the door Steve opened led into a bedroom.

It was simple like the rest of the house, but expensively furnished, with a large bed, two bedside tables and more than one closet. It was clean and impersonal save for a glass of water, a book, and a pair of reading glasses on one of the bedside tables. Steve couldn't help but wonder if Tony usually came here alone, or if Steve would be one in a long line of many to set his own glass on the other side table. Not that it mattered. This was just for the weekend, and then back to their regular lives, their regular relationships. If anything Tony did could be considered "regular."

One whole side of the walk-in closet was full of opulent robes and loungewear, and Steve flipped through them for a moment, choosing one he liked the feel of. The dark, blue fabric was silky, but without a grain, so it felt like water flowing over his hands no matter which way he petted it. Tony had followed him in and stood at the foot of the bed, leaning back against the footboard, eyes fixed on his phone with a slight scowl. Steve didn't have to ask; he knew the routine.

He started with Tony's jacket, pushing it back off his shoulders then guiding his arms through the sleeves. Tony mostly ignored him, still focused on his phone, but he let Steve work his hands free. Steve slipped the jacket on a hanger and tucked it at the back of the closet, behind the robes. Next, he moved in on the buttons. With each one, it was like a ratcheting tool, clicking Steve piece by piece towards calm. This was something simple he could do, something that would please Tony. It wouldn't save the world, or end suffering, or defeat the bad guys, but he could do it, and right now, for these three days, that was all that mattered.

Tony's chest slowly came into view - muscular and dark-haired and unmistakably male in a way that made Steve shiver, his throat tightening. He wasn't wearing an undershirt, so each button was like opening a little present - another inch of Tony's skin Steve's gift each time. He wanted to touch, explore, taste even. It was so  _ wrong,  _ but it was out of Steve's control so it didn't matter. This weekend, Tony was in charge of what was okay. Steve only had to follow, wherever he led, down depraved, sinful paths. Steve only had to follow.

He wanted to follow the line of buttons with his mouth.

Steve flicked his eyes up to find Tony's gaze had migrated away from the phone and was now fixed on him with breath-stealing intensity. "Good," Tony murmured, as if he thought Steve needed the reassurance and hadn't just been brought up short by the trail of dark hair that led from Tony's belly button down into his waistband.

But the praise flushed hot through him anyway and pushed him back to the job at hand. He eased Tony out of the rest of his clothes, dropping to his knees to untie his shoes and peel off his socks. When Tony stood naked in front of him - completely unabashed and shameless - Steve took the robe and held it out, arms wide. Tony backed into it and tugged it up over his shoulders. He led the way back out of the bedroom, pulling the tie closed as he walked. He didn't look back over his shoulder, but Steve followed him anyway. Where else would he go?

"Come here, darling," Tony said once they reached the living room. "You're still all up in your head, I can tell. I can help with that," he crooned. Tony dropped into the huge, cushy armchair in facing the fireplace and spread his legs. The robe gapped, revealing a long line of well-muscled thigh. 

Steve stepped forward and tucked himself between Tony's open legs, cheeks burning. Tony squeezed his thighs together, trapping Steve there. Then he reached up and hooked two fingers in the collar, enough pressure that Steve swallowed hard. He drew Steve down to his knees.

"You're going to suck my cock," Tony said firmly, and Steve's world tipped on its axis. Tony's mouth could be so  _ filthy  _ sometimes. Steve wanted to slap him away and sink into him at the same time. "You're going to get me off. Quickly. And then we'll see about a punishment for your back talk in the car."

The pressure on the collar increased, and Steve let his eyes fall shut. Tony guided him forward then pushed Steve's face into his crotch, making Steve feel around with his lips and his tongue until he closed his mouth over the head of Tony's cock. Tony was soft, but Steve licked and sucked, and it wasn't long before he felt him harden, a heavy weight on his tongue. He smelled bright and clean, like he'd just bathed, but also like Tony - musky and male - and Steve took in a shaky breath before sliding down and filling his mouth. 

Already, the uncertainty and the fear was ebbing away. Tony scraped his fingernails up the back of Steve's neck to grip the collar tight, and that was all it took for Steve's head to fly off his shoulders entirely. He gave in, fell down, let go, and he was floating. Everything was easy - Tony, easiest of all - he just needed to make Tony come, his reward that salty tang on his tongue. Steve knew how to do that, how to earn that. Tony had shown him long ago what he liked.

Tony was fully hard now, hot and throbbing as he pressed against the back of Steve's throat. A soft gasp slipped free, and warm satisfaction flushed through Steve. "Like that," Tony murmured. "Such a good boy." Steve swallowed around the head of Tony's cock. It was better than an orgasm of his own.

He was hard too, but it didn't matter, barely registered. Tony had told him to make him come; that was all he wanted. 

Steve knew Tony's body well, by now. He knew how to roll his tongue and press at the vein on the underside of his cock. He knew how to swallow when Tony pushed deep and suck as he pulled back. When Tony's other hand landed on Steve's hair and grabbed a handful, tugging him deeper, Steve moaned, and Tony echoed it. 

"Christ, such a good little cocksucker," Tony whined. "You've been wanting this, haven't you, Steve? Thinking about it. You ever think about sucking me off while you're on a date with one of your correct and acceptable young ladies? I bet you do. You're so filthy." Tony tugged harder and pinpricks of pain burst across Steve's scalp like fireworks. "You always come back to me, though, don't you? Always me -" Tony cut off in a gasp as Steve worked his throat around him, letting Tony's grip on his hair and collar guide his pace. Humiliation twisted up with Tony's praise and Steve's head spun. He was afraid he'd pass out from the sudden change in altitude - from Captain America to Tony's dirty plaything in a heartbeat.

"Shit, I'm -" Tony shoved Steve back then dropped his hand from Steve's hair to his cock, stroking rapidly a few times. He kept one hand wound in Steve's collar as he came with a groan and shot hot come all over Steve's face and chest.  _ "Fuck."  _ Tony sat back in his chair with a huff then reached out and ran the pad of his thumb over Steve's bottom lip.

Steve blinked, come dripping from his eyelashes to his cheek. It tickled, but he'd wait for Tony to tell him what to do with it. Sometimes, he preferred to leave Steve dirty and dripping, used.

Tony watched him, his lust-blown shock fading into dark, dangerous desire again. "Mmm, you look heavenly like that, darling." Then, as if he could read Steve's mind, "Maybe I'll leave you there all weekend, on your knees, covered in my come. Would you like that?"

Slowly, Steve nodded. There was a distant horror at the thought that he really, really would like that, and it crept slowly closer as Tony stared at his dirty face.

Tony tilted his head to the side. "You can clean up, but only using your own hands and tongue. When you're done, go get me a martini."

Steve reached out to wipe the dripping mess from his cheeks, but without the steadying weight of Tony's cock on his tongue, uncertainty leaked back in. A thread of shame curled through his stomach and stretched up to squeeze his lungs. Not the hot, tingling humiliation Tony could flush through him with one word, but the sharp, pointed disgust of knowing how wrong this was. How wrong it was to want this and to want it from Tony.

Steve's hand stilled, and his eyes dropped down to the carpet as he swallowed heavily, trying to force the feeling back down, fighting with his desire to do as Tony had told him. But Tony's hand darted out and caught Steve's chin.

"What are you thinking about?"

_ You should get up and walk out,  _ the voice in the back of Steve's mind whispered. He couldn't speak.

Tony's fingers tightened until they dug in painfully. He leaned in. "Stop it," he growled. "You're mine right now. Body and mind." His other hand closed around the pendant that hung from Steve's collar, and he pulled heavily on it. "You don't need to think. You just need to do as I say." Tony wiped two fingers through the come that marred Steve's chest then shoved them in Steve's mouth. The bitter tang and the pressure of Tony's fingers on his tongue melted back that horrible rising feeling, and Steve found a breath again, sucked in sharply through his nose. "That's better," Tony soothed, and a soft moan slipped out of Steve's throat unasked, at the praise.

Tony fed him the rest of the mess he'd made until Steve was no cleaner than he had been - covered in spit from Tony's fingers, drool dripping over his chin, but he was steadied and settled. He could still see the panic, understand the shape of it, but it was like a photograph, just out of view. Irrelevant.

"On your hands and knees, facing the wall," Tony said, and Steve dropped to his hands without thinking about it.

Tony moved forward to sit on the edge of the chair, then pressed a firm hand between Steve's shoulder blades until he folded down with his forehead on the floor and his ass in the air. 

The first strike of Tony's hand across Steve's backside made him suck in a startled gasp. He shouldn't have been surprised - Tony had said he would be getting a punishment for his back talk in the car - but somehow he wasn't expecting it. His erection had flagged during his brief panic, but it was back in full force again by the third hit.

The spanks barely hurt - Steve had super strength, and Tony wasn't even putting all of his human strength into them - but the sting was still sharp enough to make his head spin. Tony laughed lightly like he thought Steve's degradation was funny and that shot like electricity down Steve's spine and to the tip of his cock. He bit his lip to keep from groaning, precome beading up at his slit and dripping to the carpet. He wondered if Tony would make him clean it up with his tongue if he came on the carpet, wondered if he wanted to test that.

But, as if he was reading his mind, Tony leaned down, scraped his fingers roughly through Steve's hair, hissed, "Don't you dare come," then struck down hard against the fleshiest part of his ass. 

A groan did finally leak out at that, and the strikes paused for a moment. The next one  _ hurt  _ and Steve looked up sharply to see Tony wielding the TV remote and looking down at him, almost in challenge. Steve bit his lip and breathed sharply through his nose, dropping his forehead back down and keeping his ass in the air. His cheeks flushed as Tony hit him again and again, moans leaking out of him freely now, precome dripping in a line from his rock hard cock to the floor. 

The remote had hard edges that bit cruelly, and Tony wasn't holding back now. It was humiliating, using whatever was lying around, like Steve wasn't even worth getting up and getting a proper whip or paddle for. He knew Tony had them, many of them, and he didn't hesitate to use them, but every sharp smack of the plastic case and Tony's pleased hums reminded Steve that he was here for whatever Tony wanted, in whatever way he wanted it. He wiped his drool covered chin on the carpet and sunk into it, giving up on counting the hits, giving up on everything but holding his position on the floor.

Steve startled when Tony's flat palm smoothed over the burning flesh of Steve's ass. "Good boy," Tony crooned, scraping his fingernails ever so slightly as he petted him, making Steve shiver. "You took your punishment very well. Up."

Steve rose up, his knees shaking a little as he put his whole weight on them. 

"Do you want to see?" Tony grinned at him, his eyes dark and heated. Steve nodded. Tony guided him to shuffle across the carpet then turn around, looking back over his shoulder at the full-length mirror on the wall. "Beautiful."

Blood rushed into Steve's cheeks as he found himself unable to pull his gaze away from the angry, red marks that marred his pale skin. His whole ass was glowing red, and on the fleshy curve of one side was a perfect outline of Tony's hand. 

Unbidden, thoughts of wearing that mark long past the weekend wormed their way into Steve's mind. It wouldn't stay, but what if it did…? Under his uniform, sparking off and tingling every time he moved and the rough fabric brushed against it. He wouldn't be able to change in the Ultimates locker room or everyone would know he was owned by Tony, possessed. He swallowed hard as his cock twitched up against his stomach. Tony ran his hand over Steve's abs, tickling his fingers along the crease of his hip but ignoring his desperate erection. 

"That," Tony whispered right into his ear, with a puff of hot breath, "can wait." He squeezed Steve's hip, and Steve willed his arousal to abate. Knowing Tony, it could be a long time before he was allowed to come. "Now. I believe I asked you to get me a martini?" Cool command dripped through Tony's voice, and Steve shivered again; it was something about that voice, that voice he could never replicate in his mind.

"Right." Steve pushed up to his feet, wobbling slightly as his equilibrium struggled with all his blood being in his cock and his ass. The marks Tony left stung with every step towards the bar against the far wall, and Steve mourned that they'd be gone long before bedtime. He wanted to wake up with the burning flesh reminding him instantly who he belonged to.

Steve made a martini, remembering the recipe Tony had made him learn the first time they'd done this. It felt like a lifetime ago and yesterday. Half of him wished he'd never agreed to this the first time, never debased himself at Tony's feet, because now that he knew what it felt like, he didn't know how he was supposed to go back. The other half of him…

The other half of him brought Tony's drink back to him and took his place nestled on the carpet next to his chair. They passed the rest of the early evening in casual domesticity, only belied by the fact that Steve was still naked and on his knees throughout. Tony's hand landed on his head as they watched the news, stroking through his hair and scraping his nails gently over his scalp. They talked - not too in depth, Steve couldn't focus well enough to do anything that required much attention - and Tony poked around on his tablet, seemingly catching up on his email. 

Steve's stomach had already been growling for almost half an hour, when Tony said. "Hmm, I could eat." He picked up his phone and typed something into it, but didn't give Steve any indication of what he wanted him to do, so Steve merely waited. A few minutes later, there came a knock on the door, and Steve stilled, heart pounding in his chest. They'd never talked about it, but Steve was sure Tony knew how badly he needed to keep this a secret, even from a stranger. The thought of it getting out that Captain America liked -  _ needed -  _  to go to his knees for Iron Man made his stomach churn.

But Tony pressed a finger to his lips, silencing his thoughts, and stood to answer the door himself. There was a low murmur of voices, and Steve watched from his place on the floor as Tony's hand teased with the edge of the door; if he opened it a little further, whoever was on the other side would have a clear line of sight to where Steve knelt. He held his breath, every nerve in his body vibrating with tension. Then Tony reappeared with a large plastic bag in his hand and swung the door shut with his foot. 

Relief washed through Steve like a drug, as potent as the adrenaline it was fighting against and he slumped back against the chair. Tony grinned like a shark. He held up the bag. "Dinner?"

Steve nodded shakily.

Tony settled back in his chair and opened up the bag, pulling out container after container. Steve could see through the clear lids that they held sushi, beautifully prepared with shiny pieces of fish or pink, pickled ginger, or bright green wasabi covering each piece. "Go get plates and a drink for yourself. I'll have water."

Steve came back with two plates and two glasses of water, balanced precariously in his arms. Tony gestured him back down to the floor at his feet. Tony had taken the lids off the containers and very deftly, using his chopsticks he filled a plate with a little bit of everything. Tony handed the plate down to Steve before filling his own.

Tony hadn't given Steve any chopsticks, so he picked up each piece with his fingers. His container had one of everything in it, and he ate them methodically, started on one side and working his way over to the other. He didn't know what half of the rolls were - all much fancier than anything he ever bought for himself - but each one was delicious, often in unexpected ways. The fish was unbelievably fresh, and he couldn't help but wonder if Tony'd had their food flown in from the coast. 

When his plate was clean, Tony didn't offer him any more, picking at the containers himself until he sat back with a happy sigh. "You can clean up," Tony said, but when Steve stood, Tony reached out and ran a heated palm down his back, squeezing a handful of his ass. The marks from earlier were surely gone, but there was still just enough sting in his sore skin that Steve gasped and rocked into the touch. 

Steve washed the plates and threw out the empty containers, enjoying the simple, repetitive task. He could hear Tony flipping from channel to channel in the other room. When the kitchen was just about clean, Tony called out, "Bring in some popcorn with you, I found a movie for us."

Steve rustled through the cupboards until he found the bright red box. He unwrapped the package, reread the instructions - because he would never be sure of this new, instant popcorn, and put it in the microwave, hovering nervously nearby so it wouldn't burn.

He dumped the cooked popcorn in a bowl and made his way back into the living room.

"Come here." Tony patted the plush arm of his armchair, and Steve perched on it, leaning in towards Tony when he slipped his arm around his waist. It was comfortable enough that Steve could sit there through the whole movie, but awkward enough that Steve was constantly reminded in the most delicious way that he was here for Tony, wherever Tony wanted him.

Steve offered Tony the bowl of popcorn, but Tony shook his head, preferring to stroke his fingers over Steve's hip bone, up to his ribs, then back down again. He turned his attention to the movie, but after the opening credits were done, he shot a look over to Steve. "You can eat," he said.

Steve picked a kernel out of the bowl and popped it in his mouth. He'd eaten a lot of popcorn during the war, but this microwave version was different, greasy and salty, and on the verge of too much. He never ate it at home, but Tony loved it, and Steve found as he worked his way through a handful that somehow he'd come to associate it with these special weekends.

Tony squeezed his hip and turned his chin towards Steve, keeping his eyes on the screen. He opened his mouth, and Steve took a popcorn kernel from the bowl and placed it on Tony's tongue.

Tony munched his snack then repeated the gesture, and Steve kept feeding him. Soon, his fingers were shiny with oil but he had nowhere to wipe them so he left his hand hanging over the edge of the bowl, waiting for Tony to want another.

Next time, when Tony opened his mouth in a silent request and Steve slipped a popcorn between his lips, Tony's tongue darted out and licked grease and salt from Steve's fingers, the wet warmth shooting straight to Steve's core. 

Tony kept licking him as they worked their way through the bowl and through the movie, eventually catching Steve's fingers between his teeth them sucking them into his mouth, rolling his tongue around and between. Steve lost track of the plot completely - if he'd ever had it to begin with - mesmerized by Tony's hot mouth. He was so clever with his tongue. Steve's own mouth fell open as he watched Tony work his fingers. Tony slid off Steve's fingers then opened again, and Steve hastened to add another couple of popcorn kernels, watching Tony chew and swallow. 

He seemed done after that, leaning his head against Steve's side and going back to tracing the dips of his stomach with the hand that curled around Steve's waist. Steve braced himself with his left arm along the back of the armchair and picked the half-popped kernels out of the dregs of their shared bowl, trying to catch the thread of the movie again.

It was hopeless, though, so once the popcorn was finished, and Steve had set the bowl aside, he curled into the warmth and safety of Tony's side and let himself hum in soft, easy static, just waiting for Tony to need him again.

It wasn't long before he did.

"Mmm, you were a good boy today," Tony murmured, and Steve blinked out of his comfortable haze to see the end credits rolling. "I think you deserve a reward."

"Thank you," Steve replied, his body instantly on fire. His cock twitched to life, desperately hungry after Tony's torture from earlier. 

Tony stood and drew Steve up after him, setting the popcorn bowl down on the coffee table as they passed. He drew Steve into the bedroom. "Kneel here. I'll be right back." Tony disappeared into the bathroom and was gone for several minutes. When he returned, he stood at Steve's side, looking down at him consideringly. Then he drew the tie from his robe out of its loops, slow and easy. Steve watched the painted silk slip free, his mind tearing through a hundred fantasies.

Maybe Tony would tie him up with it, whip him with it, stuff it in his mouth so he couldn't scream.

But Tony bent down in front of him and fed the end of the tie through the loop that held the pendant on the front of his collar. He pulled it through with a shudder-inducing rustle of silk, until it was folded in half and he could grip both ends together. Steve was leashed.

His cock jerked and throbbed, impossibly full. 

Tony let his robe fall to the floor then sat back on the edge of the bed. "'Get the lube."

Steve shuffled forward, still on his knees, and opened the top drawer of the bedside table. Tony let the silk of the tie slide between his fingers while he watched Steve rummage around inside. There were condoms, but it had been months since they'd used them. Steve was immune to anything the incredibly promiscuous Tony might be carrying, and it wasn't like either of them could get knocked up. The first time he'd sunk into Tony uncovered was the first time he'd done that with anyone since he'd lost his virginity to Gail, an entire lifetime ago. Tony was the only man he'd been with at all, the only man who had this inescapable pull on him, dredging up all these twisted desires Steve couldn't find a way to stop. 

He could stop. It wasn't like Tony could overpower him. He could stand up and get his clothes and walk to town and call a cab. But somehow Tony made it easy - possible - to forget that, to sink into the hedonism of a weekend of nothing but slavery, sex, and degradation.  

The condoms were a reminder that Steve likely wasn't the only person Tony brought here for a depraved weekend away. The knowledge washed through him, heating his blood with something he couldn't put a name to.

"Hurry up," Tony snapped out, and Steve grabbed the bottle of lube, shuffling over to settle between Tony's knees. "Get me ready. And for the love of god, Steve, don't take all night." 

Warmth bloomed under his cheeks. Tony had shown him how to do this, walked him through it on both of them, but Steve was always too inclined to take his time against Tony's preference to rush. Steve was a super soldier, his body the peak of human strength and resilience, and Tony was the only man he'd ever had sex with; he didn't know what an average person could take.

Tony flopped onto his back, one leg dangling off the edge of the bed, the other folded up, toes hooked over the corner of the mattress. Steve couldn't see his face anymore. "I can take more than that," Tony said, sounding amused, as Steve pressed one finger gently past his rim, sliding the lube around.

Steve added another sooner than he would have liked, eyes unwaveringly fixed on Tony's body where he opened up for Steve, stretched by his fingers. It was so wrong, not a place to be touched, to find pleasure, but Steve was long past being able to deny that he did, that they both did. Tony moaned and shifted his hips as Steve pressed deeper and stretched his fingers apart a little. His heart pounded as Tony's body gave easily to his coaxing. There was a very good chance he'd be feeling that velvet heat around his cock before the night was out, and no one had ever said he was known for being a patient man.

Still, he kept his other hand innocently on his thigh, ignoring the way his cock throbbed and leaked between his legs, begging for a touch. Tony would know, if he did touch, and Tony wouldn't like it. Steve let out a shaky breath and gave over the last of his control. There was nothing he had to worry about, nothing he had to judge or decide, and nothing he could be ashamed of, because Tony had him, and Tony would tell him what to do.

When three fingers slipped inside easily, Tony pressed a foot against Steve's shoulder and eased him back. He stood, then drew Steve up to his feet after. Tony let his arm hang from the end of the leash and when Steve's head dropped forward after it, Tony caught him in a kiss, pushing it filthy immediately, driving his tongue in past Steve's teeth. 

Tony wound the end of the tie around his fist, all the way up to Steve's chest, then turned away, hooking it over his shoulder. He braced his other hand on the edge of the bed and tugged until Steve was plastered against his back. Steve dropped his face to Tony's neck more on instinct than anything and breathed him in. His scent was steadying, hints of that morning's expensive cologne tickling the back of Steve's nose. 

Steve's hands reached around and gripped Tony's sides, needing something to hold onto as much as wanting to touch, but Tony rumbled low in his chest. "Hands to yourself. You haven't earned that yet, just like you haven't earned the hard fucking I know you need. Get your dick in me, and then I want your hands behind your back."

Steve scrambled to comply, the heavy shot of arousal coursing through his veins making him dizzy, his throat parched. Tony kept a tight hold on the tie that leashed Steve to him, so he couldn't see what he was doing, face pressed firmly against the side of Tony' neck. He took hold of his cock with one hand, the other brushing lightly over Tony's hip, sneaking a touch under the guise of lining himself up. He pressed against Tony's hole, biting back a groan as the slick heat drew him in. 

"Fuck," Tony swore. "God, you're so big." He shifted his stance, and Steve sunk in a few inches with a moan he couldn't stop this time. Tony chuckled, sounding breathless himself. "You can barely hold back, can you? You're so desperate, so wanton. Degenerate."

Steve squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face behind Tony's ear then rocked back an inch before slowly pressing in again. Tony clenched around him like a molten lava vice, and Steve felt as bound by his body as he was by the collar around his neck. This was just another way that Tony claimed him.

Tony arched his back, and Steve snapped his hands behind his back before Tony could feel them brush against him. He wound his fingers together to resist the urge to grab Tony's hips and fuck into him with all his strength and all his need.

He knew how Tony liked it, though, and he was here to please Tony, not even sure yet if he'd be allowed to come himself, so he rolled his hips, finding the angle that made Tony groan and shudder under him. They rocked together, Tony's sounds of pleasure pushing Steve higher than the clenching heat around his cock was. Tony pulled the tie again, squeezing the collar around the back of Steve's neck, and he gasped, his cock twitching, no doubt leaking precome deep inside Tony.

"If you come before I do, you're sleeping outside in the driveway," Tony growled out.

Steve didn't doubt that Tony was serious so he bit down on his lip and focused on nothing but getting Tony off. His own body was just a tool for bringing Tony pleasure, and if he did, if he managed it, that reward would be better than any orgasm. 

He kept thrusting, hands clenched so tightly behind his back that his shoulders started to protest, but the urge to get a handful of the man in front of him was so strong that he was afraid if he relaxed, they'd move on their own. 

Tony was hot and slick around his cock, drawing him in like he was meant to be there. He rolled his hips back to meet every thrust of Steve's, knocking him continuously off balance with the combination of his grinding back and the tugs on the collar.

Tony loosened his hold on the tie suddenly, and Steve stumbled back. Tony turned, making Steve gasp as his cock slipped free of his body and hit the cool air, then shoved at Steve's chest until he sprawled back across the foot of the bed. Tony urged him up until his knees straightened at the edge of the mattress then climbed up on top of him, pausing only to bite down hard over Steve's nipple before straddling his hips and sinking down on his cock. 

Steve whined, his fingers twitching where they were still clenched together behind his back, trapped by the weight of his body. Tony was relentless. Steve had underestimated Tony's strength at first, before the first time Tony had shoved his face into the carpet and fucked him until he forgot his own name. But even though he was ready for it now, it still punched the breath out of his lungs when Tony started grinding on his cock, rocking up then slamming down again until his head tipped back and his eyes slipped closed. 

He used Steve like that, nothing more than a flesh-warm dildo, while Steve hung on for dear life. Tony's head thrown back drew a long line of thick tendon down his neck to his collarbone, and Steve couldn't help but trace it with his eyes. He was so high on pleasure, so lost in the all-consuming thrum of being good and holding on, that the thought of how beautiful Tony was needed no punch to plow past his defenses. He was strong and stunning and on the edge of falling apart, his muscles starting to quake, and Steve needed to bite his tongue hard enough to bleed to keep from coming himself. 

_ "Fuck,"  _ Tony groaned and then he sat down hard, rocking his hips forward, the hand that wasn't still wound in the tie dropping to his cock to stroke it twice. He came with another broken curse, spraying across Steve's chest and neck and chin in thick ropes that immediately started to drip over Steve's skin, teasing and tickling. Tony's body went slack, and he sighed with happiness, the sound washing over Steve in a great flush. He did it. He held out; he was good.

Tony tugged on the end of the tie, making Steve curve up off the bed a bit as it pulled his neck up. "Hmm." Tony smiled down at him, consideringly. "You were a good boy today. I think you get to come. Do you think you deserve to come?"

"Yes," Steve gasped, electricity shooting to the tip of his cock where he was still buried deep in Tony's ass. "Please.  _ Please, Tony. _ Let me come." The thought that he might be able to suddenly made his body painfully aware that he hadn't yet, hadn't all day, and it was  _ torture.  _

"Okay, pet. Since you beg so nicely. You can come."

Steve waited for Tony to move, but instead of rocking his hips again, Tony sat up on his knees, forcing Steve to buck his hips up to keep the head of his cock from slipping out of Tony completely. Tony settled there and grinned down at him. "Well? Go on and take what you need."

Steve whined, high in his throat, at the tease of Tony's hole clamping down over the head of his cock, promising a full, hot slide if only he could reach. Tony didn't move, so Steve worked his feet up to the end of the mattress and braced them there. With that leverage, he was able to thrust his hips up, and he gasped at the relief of sliding into Tony's heat again. 

Steve snapped his hips up again and again, pressing his arms down into the mattress to give himself a better angle. His muscles whined with the frustration of being held taut, even if the exertion wasn't really enough to tire him. Intense pleasure mixed with the almost-pain of being forced to maintain the awkward position. 

Tony smiled down at him with nearly bored amusement, like he thought Steve's desperate struggle to find release was  _ cute  _ and that humiliation ratcheted Steve up until he was suddenly right on the cusp again. 

"Oh, god, Tony. I'm going to come. I'm so close. Please. Can I come, please?" Steve kept thrusting, wildly now, his pace obliterated by clenching need driving his hips forward. 

"Of course you can, darling. Come for me," Tony purred, and Steve snapped his hips up one last time, but Tony didn't rock down to meet him, instead, he shifted his hips up and back, popping Steve's cock free of his hole. Steve cried out as his cock slapped up against his stomach, but he was too far gone; his orgasm plowed through him anyway. He curled up, arms still trapped behind his back as his come spurted free, mixing with the mess Tony had already made of his chest, not a breath of touch on his poor cock. Desperate noises sobbed out of him as he tried to thrust up into nothing, his body seeking friction even though he knew it wouldn't find any. Tony sat back on his thighs and watched him writhe uselessly, liquid heat pooled in his darkened eyes. 

Steve's skin ignited, but he couldn't look away as wave after wave of pleasure washed through him and he continued to paint his own skin with his come. When it finally abated, he slumped back down on the bed, chest heaving, and let his eyes slip shut. A hand landed on his right shoulder and he whimpered when it tried to shift his arm out from under his back. "Come on, give me your hand, darling." 

Steve tilted, released his arm, then groaned as his muscles screamed their disapproval at being moved. Tony rubbed his thumbs into the join of Steve's arm and shoulder, relieving the worst of it. He moved onto the other arm, then, when it was free, he brought both of Steve's hands together and pressed a kiss to his knuckles, first on the right, then on the left. Steve wanted to look up and catch Tony's expression, hoping he'd find warm affection and appreciation there, but his eyelids were too heavy to move. 

He felt the mattress dip as Tony shifted off him, and he mourned the loss of his heat, his weight pinning Steve down. Tony stroked his thumb across Steve's bottom lip. "Well, don't you look wonderfully debauched?"

Steve groaned and managed to creak one eye open. "Yuh-" he croaked out.

"You like being all dirty for me," Tony said. "And it's a good look for you. I think you should stay that way." The edges of his voice sharpened. "Don't move." 

Steve couldn't have moved if he'd had permission to. He stayed flopped across the foot of the bed and waited while Tony disappeared into the bathroom, following Tony's path with his ears. When he came back out, Tony dropped his robe, and Steve's eyes tracked him as he moved around the bedroom, pulling out silk pajama bottoms and a soft-looking cotton t-shirt which he slipped into, then turning off the lights and arranging the sheets. Tony crawled into bed, and Steve looked at him expectantly, not knowing where he should sleep. 

"Oh, I think you'll do fine there." Tony smiled at him. "You're far too filthy to sleep up here in bed with me, but I do like the look of you at my feet. You can wash yourself in the morning. Maybe I'll even help." With that tantalizing prospect, Tony rolled onto his side and flicked out the last light, plunging them into darkness. 

Steve shifted around on the bed as carefully as he could, knowing the punishment he'd get if he waited until after Tony was asleep to get comfortable and woke him up. Tony's feet stretched down and pressed against his stomach, and Steve curved around them, the silk tie that still hung from his collar twisting around his shoulder. He rested one hand gently on top of Tony's ankle, grounding himself, then slipped off into sleep more easily than he ever did in his apartment back in the city. 


	3. Chapter 3

Steve woke up early, well before Tony would stir. He stared up at the ceiling, feeling like his body had woken, but his mind was still floating in dreamland. He was filthy but he didn't care. In the night, he'd slipped down until one leg hung awkwardly off the end of the bed, but he didn't care. 

He slipped out of bed, being careful not to disturb Tony. The silk tie from Tony's robe still hung from his collar, and Steve tugged it out, wrapping it into a loop and placing it on top of Tony's discarded clothing from last night. He padded out of the bedroom and across the living room to the kitchen. Tony didn't eat much breakfast, but he did like to start with coffee, usually with a kick, and would often eat some toast or yogurt. Steve started the coffeemaker first, knowing the smell would wake Tony up more happily than anything else would. When it started to hiss, he sliced the firm crust of the farmer's sourdough loaf in the pantry until he had four pieces popped in the toaster. He debated between butter and jam, settling on two with one and two with the other. If Tony didn't want them all, Steve would eat the rest, not caring which. 

Steve's super-powered hearing picked up a muffled grunt from the bedroom so he poured the coffee, added cream - and something stronger - then put it on a tray with the toast plate and a bowl of yogurt. Steve carried it carefully into the bedroom where Tony was beginning to stir and set it on the mattress next to his hip. Tony blinked his eyes open and smiled. "You spoil me, darling."

Steve couldn't help but smile back. Tony tapped the bed by his knees and Steve climbed up, leaning on one hand braced over Tony's legs. Tony propped himself up on his elbow and sipped the coffee with a pleased moan that shot an electric bolt of arousal to Steve's core. He flushed, knowing that if he let himself think that way any longer, he wouldn't be able to hide it.

Tony picked up a piece of the buttered toast and nibbled on the corner. "Hand me my phone pet." 

Steve took Tony's phone off the charging mat and handed it to him, earning a hum of approval and a soft stroke through his hair. Tony stared at the screen for a while, scrolling and grumbling. He picked up the jam-covered toast, tasted it then handed it to Steve whose stomach rumbled in pleasure as he ate the piece in a few bites. Tony raised an eyebrow at him then handed him the other one as well. 

He set his phone down and raked a heated gaze down Steve's chest. "You're filthy."

"Isn't this how you like me?" Steve asked, surprised when he realized those were the first words out of his mouth that day. They were rough and cottony. 

"I do…" Tony reached out and ran his finger over Steve's bottom lip, light enough that it tickled. "But you should take a shower while I finish with my email. Can't have you touching my furniture like that. You'll make a mess."

"Right now?" 

Tony made a shooing motion, so Steve rose up and turned towards the bathroom, sucking the last of the jam off his fingers. He turned the shower up hot and luxuriated in rubbing Tony's body wash over him until they smelled the same. It would take three days, back at home, before the scent fully faded, the spice of Tony's body wash, the fresh undertone of laundry soap from his sheets, and the musk of Tony's sweat. That smell would follow him back home, torturing him with memories of what they did here. All the depraved things they did here.

Steve shuddered, his cock swelling, as he brushed his hand over his lower stomach. He bit his lip, stopping a groan from leaking out. How did Tony have this effect on him? Steve liked sex, of course he did, but he'd never craved it like this, not before he met Tony. Before, it'd been something to share with someone special, an affirmation of your feelings. He and Gail had shared that one perfect night before the rocket and the ice, but it had been about love, about promise, not about… _ carnality. _

Everything about Tony was carnal, sensual, indulgent. He was the very definition of the seven deadly sins. Something spilled over his hand, and Steve looked down at the shampoo bottle he'd squeezed to death. He sighed; maybe wrath was all his.

"Goodness, what a lovely view."

Steve snapped his eyes up over his shoulder and saw Tony leaning with one hip braced against the bathroom counter, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised to complement his lascivious smirk. Even under the hot spray of the shower, Steve felt a flush bloom down his chest as Tony took him in shamelessly, gaze landing on his half-hard cock. 

"No need to stop on my account, darling." Tony grinned, mocking, and Steve turned around again sharply, setting the crumpled bottle back on the shelf. The sink turned on, but Steve tried to focus on his shower, feeling Tony's eyes on the back of his neck. Even with his hyperfocus on where Tony was, Steve still startled when fingers trailed lightly down his spine. Tony was outside the shower stall, just his arm stuck under the spray to caress Steve's soapy skin. 

Steve worked the shampoo in his hair, scrubbing down to his scalp and struggling to breathe properly between the steam of the shower, the water cascading over his face, and the teasing strokes of Tony's fingers on his back, sinking ever lower. 

"Tony -" Steve choked off, as Tony's touch slipped down the crack of his ass, rubbing the rim of his hole. 

Tony tsked but didn't chastise further, letting Steve get away with his outburst. He didn't stop touching, though, not slipping inside, but teasing and stroking until Steve was shivering under the hot water. He managed to finish washing his hair, and as soon as he was done washing, Tony smacked him hard on the ass and stepped away. 

"I think you should drip dry. Meet me outside."

"Okay," Steve managed to gasp out. He heard the door click shut as Tony stepped out. 

Steve couldn't even remember what he'd been thinking about before; all he could think about now was getting outside to Tony.

He switched off the water and towelled off lightly, heeding Tony's words about drying outside but not wanting to drip on the floor on the way. He had no clothes to change into, so he brushed his teeth quickly and hurried out to the back patio. 

The morning had broken with brilliant sun, a sultry, late-summer day in the making. Tony wore another silk robe and dark sunglasses, sprawled out on an oversized deck chair. The robe gaped showing off the shapely length of his long legs. Steve knew Tony would get a kick out of him staring, had probably arranged the robe like that on purpose to watch him, but he couldn't pull his eyes away. 

The sun was bright but the air was still dawn-cool, and it raised goosebumps on Steve's damp skin. A light sheen of sweat covered Tony, though, glistening in the light. Tony opened his arms to invite Steve in, pulling him down into a sloppy kiss when Steve leaned over him on his arms and legs. He moved to settle on the chair on top of Tony, but Tony stilled him with one foot braced to his thigh.

"You're going to burn like that." Tony laughed, and Steve shot him the cheekiest look he dared. Tony reached to the table beside him and tossed him a bottle of sunscreen. "Can super soldiers burn? Oh well, might as well lotion up anyway." Tony folded his arms behind his head, warm, dark eyes fixed on Steve.

Steve knew what was expected of him. He stood at the foot the of the chair, framed perfectly in Tony's view and squirted sunscreen into his palm. He started at the tips of his ears and worked the cream into his skin, working his way down. He focused on his task, but every few seconds he couldn't help but flick his eyes up to take in Tony's heated gaze.

It was hard to believe anyone would want to look at him the way Tony did. Sure, he was used to being appreciated for his looks - since the serum anyway - but there was something more about the way Tony took in every inch of his skin. Tony wasn't just desirous, he was  _ hungry,  _ and it wasn't just Steve's body Tony craved, it was more than that. He wanted his pleasure, his surrender, his submission. That was more of him than anyone else had ever wanted in this century. 

When he was done, cream massaged into every inch of his skin, Tony flicked his robe open and raised an eyebrow. "You wouldn't want me to burn either, would you?"

Steve started with Tony's feet, deeply aware of how intensely Tony's eyes stayed fixed on him. Tony loved a foot massage, and Steve knew his super-soldier hands were especially good at working out the knots, so he ran his thumbs firmly up Tony's arches and resisted the urge to smile in self-satisfaction when Tony moaned. 

He took his time, focusing much more on Tony's pleasure than working in the cream, but he also knew what his punishment might look like if he let Tony burn, so he made sure to squirt more cream on his hands every time they ran dry.

He stroked up over Tony's legs, gently rubbing the cream in through his leg hair. The air smelled like coconuts and Steve's hands were soft and slippery before long. Tony sprawled out, head lolled back and arms spread wide. It was inviting but also trusting and Steve felt an unfamiliar twinge in his chest at the sight. 

They were here so that Tony could use Steve, to separate Steve's mind from his body so he could find some relief from the pressures of his life, but for a fleeting moment, Steve wanted to crawl up Tony's body and take  _ him.  _ Whisper in his ear and nip at his lips, grind down against his smooth, soft nudity. Take the pert nub of his nipple between his lips.

He shook his head quickly, clearing the thought as he rubbed his way up Tony's thigh. It wasn't for him to decide. It wasn't for him to think about. He pushed the urge away; all he would do was what Tony asked of him.

Steve spread his palms flat and stroked them up over Tony's thighs to his abs, careful to avoid his groin - surely the sunscreen would sting there. Tony was firm and muscular under his touch, his physique more than the work of vanity - which Tony surely subscribed to - but born out of hours of physical labour, designing, assembling, and piloting the suit. Tony was incredibly physical, for all his apparent indolence, and Steve explored the edges and creases of each thick cord of muscle that crossed his core.

When his legs were done, Tony slipped out of the robe and rolled over. Steve worked his way up Tony's back, cheeks heating as he ran firm palms over Tony's buttocks. He got to look, with Tony on his stomach like this, with absolute freedom. There was no one to watch him, no one to judge. Though really, they were beyond whatever judging Tony might have been inclined to do at this point. They'd done so much together; if Tony thought any less of him for his perverted desires, he'd never told Steve as much. Or maybe he always thought so little of him that there wasn't much esteem to lose.

That stung, for all Steve knew he shouldn't care.

Tony flinched when Steve dug in too-hard thumbs under his shoulder blades, and he backed off with a wince, but Tony relaxed again, and Steve was able to spread the cream over the rest of him, paying close attention to his neck and the tips of his ears. Tony hummed in pleasure when he finished, rolling on his back again and blinking up at Steve languidly from behind his large sunglasses.

Tony threw his arms open and spread his legs, and Steve settled easily between them, sighing with the pleasure of warm skin on his. Tony poked and prodded until Steve was arranged between his legs, on the extended part of the chair. Tony drew him up into a kiss that made Steve's stomach flutter then eased him down until he rested his head on Tony's stomach.

"Mmm, that's nice," Tony hummed. His fingers furrowed through Steve's hair but stopped this time, gripping a full handful tight enough to tingle. "You know… there's one spot you couldn't protect with the sunblock, but god, that'd be a horrible place to burn. Let me put you to work, darling." Tony used the grip on Steve's hair to pull him down, feeding his cock into Steve's mouth with his other hand. Steve sucked gently, thrumming with satisfaction when he felt Tony's cock throb fuller, but when he started to move his head, Tony gripped tighter. "No need for that. You stay right there and keep me from getting burned. I'm going to finish reading."

Steve swallowed hard, realizing he wasn't here for a blowjob, but that Tony intended to keep him here, wrapped around his cock, for as long as he wanted. Firm fingers scraped through his hair, combing out the still-damp strands. "You're beautiful like this," Tony murmured, and Steve sunk further into the touch even as the hard-to-silence part of his brain resisted being called beautiful.

Tony didn't stop touching him as he lifted his book from the side table and started to read. Steve listened to the turning of the pages and the soft lapping of the water against the side of the pool. He didn't sleep, which was a relief. Too often, when he was at home with nothing to do, his eyes would slip closed and he'd drift off, only to wake up a few hours later feeling shaky and off-kilter. But Tony let him relax without dozing off, the regular, firm touch in his hair keeping him grounded.

The sun was hot now, but not in a painful way, warming his skin gently until it was hard to remember what the ice had felt like. The pool didn't smell like chlorine - Steve had noticed that Tony's pools never did - instead, all he could smell was the sweet coconut of the sunscreen, hiding its chemical undertones, and the masculine spice of Tony's skin. 

Tony's cock was soft when he'd started, but he throbbed heavier on Steve's tongue in the wet warmth of his mouth. And yet, somehow, it wasn't exactly sexual. Without the movement, it lacked the urgency or the self-consciousness of sex. There was no wondering if he was doing this right, if he was bringing Tony pleasure, because all Tony had asked him to do was be still, be here. Steve swallowed as spit pooled in his mouth, and Tony's fingers scrubbed a little harder before returning to gentle strokes. 

Steve's body relaxed inch by inch, sinking into the space between Tony's legs. He noticed each muscle as it let go of its tension, thinking with each one that it must be the last, only to feel his body find another way to give in. Tony's cock pressed against the back of Steve's throat, but he found that settled on Tony's thigh as he was, he could hold quite a lot of his length in his mouth and still breathe. Drool dripped down his chin. 

Time became hazy, as it often did when he was under Tony's hand, but this was a new kind of hazy. Steve stayed focused, hyper-aware of every slight throb in Tony's cock, the tickle of his leg hair against Steve's chin. He could hear Tony's heart beating, feel it under his cheek. He could count the steady in and out of his breath. He didn't know how many minutes had gone by, but he was acutely aware of every moment of Tony that had passed. 

Tony's hand curled around to his jaw, fingers stroking the join of Steve's lips and his cock. Steve hummed in his throat. The touch was electrifying, sparking off each nerve under his skin. Tony seemed to still be reading, but his finger kept exploring the seal of Steve's mouth until it pressed at the corner, slipping in next to his cock. 

He was being stretched and used, nothing more than a toy here for Tony's pleasure, to be taken in any way he wanted, fingers, cock, anything. Steve had the intense urge to be rolled onto his back, have his mouth fucked, mixed with the soft desire to stay here like this forever, safe and held.

Tony's finger pressed down on his tongue, sliding in until Steve choked and backed off, swallowing hard. Tony hummed then urged Steve back down with a fist full of his hair until his nose pressed against Tony's stomach, his now fully hard cock blocking off his throat. Panic mixed with heat in Steve's stomach - what if Tony wouldn't let him breathe? But just as the lack of oxygen started to ache in his chest, Tony relaxed his hold and Steve sucked air in through his nose. 

"You feel incredible," Tony said, and the praise heated Steve's skin. He pressed closer, tucking himself up between Tony's legs so he could swallow him down more easily.

Tony went back to his book, but his hips were rocking back and forth gently now, pressing the head of his cock to the back of Steve's throat. Steve did his best to relax into it, spit dripping freely down his chin now. His jaw ached but in the satisfying way his muscles would after a long, rough mission. 

Steve didn't even register how hard he was, how close he was, until Tony thrust forward again and pleasure shocked through him like lightning. He rutted forward against Tony's thigh, out of his control, shooting come over his leg in long stripes. He choked and gasped around Tony's cock, but Tony didn't release him.

Tony made a startled noise and stilled his thrusts. "Are you kidding me, Steve?" he said. "God, you can't even control yourself, can you?" Tony released Steve's hair then shoved him down towards his feet. "Clean it up."

There was no question what Tony meant by that. Shame burned Steve's cheeks hot as he licked his way across Tony's leg, cleaning him off. The bitterness of his own come mixed with the salt of Tony's sweat and the odd chemical taste of the sunscreen, but Steve dutifully cleaned Tony's skin as he quaked through the aftershocks of his unexpected orgasm. When he was done, he rested his cheek on Tony's knee and blinked up at him. 

There was a dark light gleaming in Tony's eyes, and Steve swallowed heavily, bracing for whatever was to come. Tony sat up, leaning forward over him. His fingers landed on the  back of Steve's collar, tugging at it until it pressed against Steve's throat, making him swallow again and again. 

"You can't control yourself… I'm going to have to punish you for that, Steve. You come when I say you can, no sooner. Into the house." Tony stood suddenly, dislodging Steve from where he was curled at his feet. He followed after Tony pathetically, like a dog eager for scraps while Tony marched off, retying his robe.

Tony pointed at the long, frameless window stretching the length of one wall of the living room. "Hands on the glass. Spread your legs. Stick out that government-issued ass for me to paint red."

A shiver rippled down Steve's back, even though he was still overheated from the sun. He crossed the room and placed his hands on the glass, arranging them carefully so he could hold the position for as long as possible. There was no telling how long Tony's punishment would last. He spread his legs and arched his back, squeezing his eyes shut at the humiliation of giving in so easily to the demand that he stand in such a demeaning way. 

But Tony's promise to "paint his ass red" had Steve's toes curling and uncurling in the thick rug, squirming where he stood. His muscles tensed in anticipation of the pain that was sure to come, but  _ god,  _ did he want it.

A hand slapped across his ass, and Steve yelped and flinched away, so caught in his own roiling thoughts that he hadn't heard Tony return to the room. He started to turn his head to look at him, but Tony flicked his cheek, and Steve turned back to the window. 

The next hit wasn't from Tony's hand. 

Steve gasped as pain ripped in a hot line across the fleshiest part of his ass. The sharp bite that faded quickly into a warm tingle told him it was a whip Tony had left the room to get.

Steve was rock hard again already, a string of precome leaking from the tip and dripping to the carpet. He shivered, waiting for the next hit. How could Tony get him off so easily? One touch, one hit, and Steve was already on the verge of begging. He broke off a whimpering moan before it could sneak free, but Tony chuckled behind him and he knew he had heard.

"You find it so hard not to come?" Tony crooned in his ear, breath hot. "I guess you'll just have to get it all out of your system." His voice dropped low, command wormed through each syllable. "You're going to come from my whip alone, and I'm not going to stop until you do."

"Fuck, Tony," Steve whined, resisting the urge to rut up against the cold glass of the window. Tony moved away again, and when Steve breathed in next, Tony sliced the whip-tip across his back. Pain burst up Steve's back then shot back down to his cock as pleasure. It was embarrassing how quickly he was going to be able to follow Tony's command, partly because the whip felt  _ so good  _ and partially because he was  _ made  _ to follow Tony's commands. He closed his eyes again and focused on nothing but the sensation of Tony's whip drawing across his skin - his back, his legs, his ass.

He wished he could see, wished dark and deep and secret that Tony would stand him in front of the mirror again and make him watch while he drew red lines all over his body. It made Steve feel like he belonged here somehow, when Tony claimed him like this. If the lines would stay… never heal… he'd be irrevocably bound to Tony and no one else. 

Tony slid the blunt handle of the whip between Steve's ass cheeks, pressing it lightly against his hole, and Steve tensed, caught in terrified exhilaration at the thought that Tony might push it inside him, but after a moment of teasing he drew back and flicked the tip sharply along the top of Steve's thigh. 

"Ask me to hit you again," Tony said. That  _ voice. _

Steve bit down hard on his lip. Tony wanted him to beg, and  _ god,  _ he wanted to, wanted to feel that whip crack over his skin again and again. It was a disgusting thing to want. What would the other Ultimates think if they knew that right now Steve was leaking all over Tony's carpet, hands going numb, while he ached to feel Tony's degrading strikes all over him? The thought that Tony would make him wait forever if he didn't ask only made him harder. It was an awful thing to want. But he wanted it so badly.

"Please," he choked out, "hit me."

Tony rewarded him with a sharp snap across his upper back, just below the shoulder blade. His shield pressed there when he wore it on his back. If only Tony's marks would stay, rubbing under his uniform, under his shield harness. He thought about someone catching him, maybe after a battle, his uniform torn and revealing too much. They'd ask if he'd been hurt in the fight; he'd catch Tony's eye instead of answering, skin heating with shame. 

"Ask again," Tony demanded, and Steve snapped back to the present. 

_ "Please." _

The next hit shot straight to his cock and he shuddered, almost losing his footing and sinking to the floor. His back must have been a mess already, bright red and marked up, bleeding in places, maybe. Steve shifted, trying to feel if his back was wet, figure out how raw the skin was.

Tony flicked the whip up between his legs, only catching his upper thigh, but making Steve's whole body jerk and tense in anticipation of something worse. He let out the sharp breath he'd sucked in with a groan. Everything throbbed with a mix of pain and pleasure.

Tony dragged his thumb down Steve's back, torturing the already abused nerves. "Aren't you going to come for me, darling?" Tony took a handful of Steve's ass and squeezed. It was getting harder and harder to keep his own hands on the window. "You were so eager to make a mess before and now you don't want to? Answer me. You going to come?"

"Please. Yes," Steve gasped out, his throat dry. Tony hit him again.  _ "Yes."  _ He was suddenly close now, caught between wanting to drag out the delicious feeling of teetering on the edge and wanting to do as Tony said. "I'm going to - I'm coming -" he croaked out, hips kicking forward of their own accord as Tony drew the whip across his back. 

Steve looked down and watched as his cock twitched untouched between his legs and he shot come onto the carpet below. He dropped his head between his arms where they were still braced against the window and arched his back to keep from thrusting right up against the glass. The whines falling from his throat should have been embarrassing but he was far too gone to care. His chest heaved with heavy breaths, and he felt the tell-tale throbbing deep in his core that told him his cock wasn't softening any time soon.

Pain exploded across his back, and Steve yelped and flinched away, his every nerve still tingling through the come down from his orgasm. Tony pressed up behind him, the soft silk of his robe feeling sandpaper-rough against his abused back, but the pain only made his exhausted cock throb harder. 

Tony wrapped an arm around Steve's waist and teased his fingers down his length. Steve could feel hot breath on the curve of his ear. "Good boy," Tony murmured, and Steve  _ glowed.  _ "You still need more, don't you? Insatiable. This time you can come on my cock."

Oh god, another orgasm? As much as he wanted it, Steve wasn't sure he could handle it without crumbling to pieces on Tony's floor. His legs shook, but he held himself up with flat palms pressed against the window hard enough to make his knuckles go white.

Tony's finger pressed roughly against his hole, slick but not slick enough, then pushed inside. A twisted groan leaked out between Steve's gritted teeth. Tony knew just how to twist and push to drive Steve crazy. Tony fucked Steve with his fingers until Steve was rocking back against him with every thrust, eager for more. His nerves were on fire, alight with pain and pleasure and everything in between, but he wanted more.

Without warning, Tony pulled his fingers free and replaced them with his cock, sliding in roughly without giving Steve time to adjust. As he bottomed out, stretching Steve wide, he bit down on the back of Steve's neck, just below his collar. It was filthy and possessive and, like electricity, shot straight to Steve's cock. He twitched and moaned, fluid welling up at his tip. Suddenly a third orgasm didn't seem so impossible.

"Oh, sweetheart," Tony purred in his ear, almost mocking, "you're so sensitive, so easy. I bet I don't even have to fuck you. If I just kept you here and didn't let you move, didn't let you go, impaled on my cock, trapped, you'd come just from that, wouldn't you?"

Even the thought nearly pushed Steve over the edge. He nodded.

"Tell me." Tony nipped at Steve's neck again.

"Yes. Yes, Tony. I could come from that," Steve gasped. His lungs were at half-capacity, burning and begging, but he couldn't suck in anymore oxygen to soothe them. "I -" He jerked back seeking more contact, some friction, some movement, because surely Tony was only teasing? He wouldn't really….?

Tony gripped sharp fingers into Steve's hips in warning, but then he did move, thankfully, sliding back cruelly slowly before slamming in again, all the way. Steve dropped first to his forearms, then flat to his chest against the window as Tony fucked him. He waited to be chastised, but Tony just crowded him up against the glass, one hand circling his wrist and holding tight. He kept plucking at Steve's neck with his teeth, sucking a bruise under his ear then tracing the edge of the collar with his tongue.

Pressed flat as he was, Steve's cock was trapped between his body and the window, rubbing up against the cold glass with every thrust. He arched back just enough to tip his chin down and watch. If it were dark out, he'd see a reflection of himself in the glass, a mirrored cock rubbing up against his own, hands clasped with his twin, Tony's bright eyes meeting Steve's over his doppleganger's shoulder. 

Maybe, someday, Tony would fuck him up against a mirror.

Steve came again. It hurt. It ripped through him, starting with curling his toes and clenching each muscle in a great wave tearing up his body. He splatted an amount of come that should have been impossible after two orgasms already over the glass of the window, and Tony's continued thrusts rubbed his cock through it, slicking its slide.

"Oh, look at you," Tony said softly, chin hooked over Steve's shoulder. He hadn't slowed his thrusts, and Steve's prostate starting shooting electric shocks through his core with each one.

"Tony -" Steve managed, before his voice failed him, breaking into a wordless whine. 

Tony didn't slow, didn't stop; he fucked Steve in search of his own pleasure, while Steve's legs shook and he clung desperately to the window to keep from slipping to the ground. Tony was thick and hard, making Steve feel every inch of him as he pumped deep inside. Steve was open and exposed, a single vibrating nerve tuned to Tony's frequency. Pleasure rolled over him in endless waves, as if his last orgasm hadn't actually finished, Tony's thrusts reigniting his prostate every time he thought he might be done.

It could have been hours or days before Tony's hands clenched hard on Steve's hips and he pulled him flush with a groan, short sharp thrusts filling Steve with his come. He pulled free, a trickle of liquid sliding down Steve's thigh, and Steve instantly mourned his loss. As oversensitive, as wiped out as he was, Steve wanted him back inside him, claiming him unrelentingly, forever.

Steve sucked in a sharp breath when his vision hazed over and realized he'd been holding it for a while now. Tony released his tight grip, and Steve slipped to the floor, grunting in surprise as he landed hard on his knees on the carpet, hands squeaking down the glass until they fell in his lap. 

Tony grabbed his chin and forced his head back. His eyes were bright with something, the sunlight streaming through the window catching him in sharp glares and deep shadows all at once. He petted his thumb over Steve's lip then hooked his collar and urged him to crawl across the carpet until his back rested against the couch, his skin reminding him that it was still hot and inflamed from Tony's whip, healing, but not quite fast enough. Tony bent down and kissed Steve hard enough to make his lips tingle. 

"Did I finally wear out a supersoldier?" Tony mused softly. 

Steve nodded slowly. 

"You took your punishment very well," Tony said. "You're so good for me, darling." He smiled in a way that wasn't quite right, but Steve wasn't with it enough to figure out why. He reached a hand out for Tony, unsure what he was aiming for, and Tony caught his fingers and rubbed at his palm idly. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter one has art now!! [Go look!!](https://one-and-five-nines.tumblr.com/post/178901417821/festiveferret-i-havent-drawn-in-forever-plz-be)

Tony settled on the couch, legs tucked behind Steve's back where he slumped on the floor. Steve dozed for over an hour, aware of Tony getting up and making lunch, reappearing with drawstring pants and a t-shirt on under his robe, but not present enough in his own mind and body to express interest in food himself. Tony made him drink some juice, pressing a too-gentle kiss to his forehead after, then settled down on the couch with his tablet, one hand stroking through Steve's hair or scraping over his stubble every now and then. 

When Steve was feeling a little more himself, Tony tucked his feet up and patted the end of the couch until Steve curled up there. Steve would have been content to laze about on the couch indefinitely, but Tony tossed him the remote after a minute and gestured towards the TV. "If you hit the red button, I've got some stuff saved."

Steve sat up, smacking his cottony tongue against the roof of his mouth until he no longer felt halfway to sleep. He flicked the TV on and pressed the red button. A list of recorded shows popped up and after scrolling for a moment, Steve realized the list was entirely recent episodes of the soap operas no one but Jan and Tony knew he watched religiously every week. Something tight and painful clenched in Steve's chest and he swallowed heavily and blinked until it went away.

He picked a new episode of Days of Our Lives and curled back up on the couch, Tony's feet in his lap. The characters yelled at each other, fainted, and confessed sins while overdramatic music played in the background, and Steve sunk into the easy pleasure of his show. The relationships might be complex, but the characters all wore their feelings on their sleeves, ramped all the way up to their maximum. There were no shades of grey in these shows. For all that it was over the top, it was simple. Steve kept shooting little glances at Tony, until Tony's lips quirked up, and he realized he'd been caught. He glued his eyes to the screen after that.

He wished real life were that simple.

Several episodes in, Tony's phone rang, and he took it out on the patio, pacing back and forth across the slate, gesturing with one hand while he talked. Steve watched him shamelessly, not caring if Tony caught him this time. The sky was darkening to a deep pink already as they barreled into the early evening, and the long rays of light danced around Tony's feet as he paced back and forth. 

He was… well he was beautiful. There really was no way around it.

Tony finally hung up and came back inside. He tossed himself in the armchair, legs turning up to hang over the arm. He shot Steve a self-satisfied smirk. "Dinner?"

Steve could sense the set up for something. He nodded carefully.

"There's a piece of paper tucked behind the knife block with instructions. Everything you need should be in the fridge or cupboards." Tony flung his phone across the room, Steve's super-charged reflexes all that kept it from smashing on the ground. "If you get stuck, ask Google, not me," Tony said dismissively, making the back of Steve's neck heat in a combination of frustration and tingling humiliation. "Don't take too long. I'm hungry." Tony made a shooing motion, and, dismissed, Steve turned on his heel and marched into the kitchen.

Once alone, he let out a long slow breath, and tried to steady himself at the same time. He couldn't cook, he'd never had occasion to learn, and no one he'd dated had ever asked him to try before. Not that he and Tony were dating. But a few women had cooked for  _ him,  _ which had been very nice. He'd never had any intention of returning the favour.

Steve tugged out the stiff card tucked behind the knife block and looked it over. It seemed straightforward enough, but his heart pounded painfully in his chest anyway. If he screwed this up, he'd ruin the ingredients Tony had ordered, he certainly wouldn't eat, and there was no telling how Tony would punish him. He couldn't fail; he desperately didn't  _ want  _ to fail. He wanted to feed Tony, bring him another kind of pleasure, provide him with sustenance. 

He just had to treat this like a mission.

First, he carefully read over the whole page, then turned it over and read the back. The card explained that he'd be serving a shrimp ring to start, steak, balsamic green beans, and red potatoes for the entree, and fruit and cheese for dessert. He was grateful for the simplicity - Tony easily could have set him up for failure with something with a french name he couldn't pronounce and ingredients he couldn't tell apart - but his hand still shook as he opened the fridge.

The shrimp was arranged already so Steve took out the platter, uncovered it, and lay it on the counter. He'd bring it to Tony when the other dishes were farther along. He set the steak on the counter so it could come to room temperature and started chopping fruits and vegetables. 

Preparing the food was simple and mindless, interspersed with moments of intense focus as he reviewed the instructions and did his best to follow them. The jars in the spice cabinet were all labeled, so mixing the dry rub for the steak was easy, but the instructions had no explanation for how to cut a mango, so Steve had to wing that. He ended up hiding the pieces on the fruit platter behind a wall of grapes hoping that Tony would be so sated by delicious food at that point that he wouldn't notice. 

The potatoes were boiling by the time the steak hit the hot pan with a sizzle, filling the room with a spiced, meaty aroma. Little pin pricks of hot oil leapt out of the pan and sparked on his skin. He knew Tony wouldn't mind if he wore an apron for this, but the little jolts of pain felt good, like one of Tony's punishments but without the shame. Except… he should be ashamed. No normal person enjoyed something like that. He frowned at the pan and pushed the steak to the side with the tongs, watching droplets of oil skitter up into the air.  _ That's because you're not a normal person,  _ Tony would whisper in his ear if he knew where his thoughts had spiralled to.  _ You're my plaything. My toy. You belong to me, and  _ I  _ get to decide what you do, what you feel. _

Steve let out a shaky breath and clutched the recipe card, stepping back as the thought of Tony's hot breath on the shell of his ear made his cock twitch to life. A few more breaths calmed him back down, and he turned his focus back to the food. Tony was hungry; Steve needed to work quickly.

The sear on the meat was instantly gratifying, even though there were still so many steps where he could go wrong. When both sides of the steaks were dark and caramelized, Steve moved them to the oven, setting the timer before he could forget. While they cooked, he set to work taking the ends off the green beans. It was rhythmic and peaceful, popping the top and tail off each one. The pile of finished beans grew larger as the pile of unfinished ones dwindled, and he sunk into the pleasure of simple tasks, of pleasing Tony. There was something especially electrifying about knowing that each little accomplishment was building up to the moment when he would reveal the meal to Tony. He was banking now for a whole lot of satisfaction soon, instead of being praised throughout for small things. He wondered what it would be like, if Tony would heap on congratulations or if he'd get the same praise he did for sitting properly or sucking Tony off like he liked. The anticipation of the unknown was titillating. 

The beans went in the pan that the steaks had vacated with a handful of sliced onions. Water hissed up as they cooked. The instructions said hot and fast until they were blackened but still crisp. Steve wasn't sure what that meant. There was no time listed, he just had to understand when they were done. If he overcooked them, there was no coming back, and there were no extra beans in the fridge. Tony's presence in the other room vibrated under his skin. 

_ Ask Google,  _ Tony had said. Steve fumbled the phone out from behind the empty bag of potatoes. He looked up a few recipes that said the same vague, useless thing, then finally found a video that showed the beans, bright green, smaller, with dark patches on them. Okay. He could do that.

Things seemed pretty far along, so Steve brought the shrimp platter out with dip and set it on the table by Tony's chair. He was deeply engrossed in his tablet, and Steve didn't say a word, just adjusted the plate within reach and left. He looked back before slipping into the kitchen, and Tony had a shrimp between his lips, tugging it out of the tail. He smiled.

And then everything happened at once. The timer for the steak went off, just as he was testing the potatoes for doneness, just as the beans hit the right colour. He scrambled to get the meat out of the oven with one hand while pressing a knife tip into the potatoes. It slid in easily so he tossed the baking sheet on top of the stove then grabbed the potato pot and poured the water out. He added milk and butter and herbs then mashed them lightly with a fork, following the instructions that said to leave the skins and some larger chunks. "Smashed" potatoes, it said, not "mashed." Huh.

With the potatoes set aside and the steaks resting under a piece of foil, steve turned back to the beans, pouring a splash of balsamic vinegar over them and shaking it all around in the pan. He had to admit, it smelled delicious, and his stomach rumbled. He only hesitated for a moment before tugging a bean out of the pan and popping it in his mouth; he couldn't serve Tony food he hadn't tested first. What if it was awful?

But the bean was still crisp and fresh, the vinegar and onions covering it in a sweet glaze, and he licked his finger after, wanting more. He didn't know, though, if Tony would be sharing this food with him, or if he'd get something else… or if he'd get nothing. Tony was usually kind about food, knowing that his super-soldier metabolism burned hot and fast, but he'd had Steve skip meals before, and the thought was more than a little tantalizing. Sitting at Tony's feet, watching him gorge himself on the decadent meal Steve had prepared, leaving none for him, his stomach rumbling. When Tony kissed him, Steve would taste the meat juice on his lips, creamy potatoes on his tongue, but that would be all he got.

He rushed through the last of the preparations then set the smaller table by the large picture windows. Not knowing if he'd be allowed to sit and eat, Steve laid out the dishes in serving bowls and set two places instead of filling the plates. He went in the other room and found Tony still absorbed but with most of the shrimp plate gone. He stroked his fingers up Tony's foot then circled his ankle. Tony looked up from his tablet.

"It's ready," Steve said, more than a little nervous. "I set the kitchen table."

Tony smiled at him. "Excellent choice. We can watch the sunset. Come here." He crooked his finger, and Steve bent forward, bracing one hand against the back of the chair, and one had on the arm next to Tony's head. Tony grabbed the pendant hanging heavily from his collar and wheeled Steve in until they were face to face. He pressed a kiss to his lips then reached back to take a shrimp from the plate which he fed to Steve, smearing the seafood sauce across his mouth. Despite his position, looming over Tony, Steve felt small and unsteady, like a moon orbiting in Tony's gravity. Without Tony here, he would fly away. The shrimp was cold and sweet, popping with flavour, the pickled zing of the seafood sauce tingling on his tongue. "Thank you," he whispered, when he had chewed and swallowed.

Tony hummed thoughtfully then stood, leading Steve into the kitchen where the food was laid out. Steve held his breath.

"Well, that looks lovely, darling," Tony said, and Steve let the air out all in a relieved rush. He pulled Tony's chair back for him then hovered, uncertain. "You know," Tony drawled, "it was so nice having you between my legs this morning. Why don't you sit right here?" He spread his legs and gestured between them. 

Steve sunk to his knees, shuffling awkwardly under the table until he was tucked between Tony's calves, his chin at the seat of Tony's chair. Was he going to spend the meal with his mouth full of Tony's cock instead of food? His mouth watered at the thought, wanting both at once, but Tony reached for silverware instead of his zipper, and Steve didn't presume.

He heard the clink of silverware on china, trying to track which things Tony was serving himself based on the noises overhead, but it was too messy, echoing off the wooden table. Tony leaned forward, and Steve tipped his eyes up to watch his throat move as he chewed. He hummed with pleasure at the first bite and it was praise enough that Steve was instantly gone, the tension that had built through the cooking releasing in one warm, pleasant rush. He could barely feel his own body. 

"Very nice, pet. Well done," Tony murmurmed.

Steve tried to thank him, but words felt too complicated to form. He looked up and saw Tony blinking down at him.

"Oh you liked that, didn't you sweetheart? Look at you. I've never seen you so soft so fast." He stroked his thumb over Steve's cheek. "What a good boy. If only I could keep you like this all the time." There was something faraway and wistful about Tony's tone, but Steve didn't have the mental prowess to dissect it, lost as he was in the dozy haze of having pleased Tony, fed him. "Here." Fingers appeared under the table, clutching another bean, and Steve took it gratefully, the sweet pop of the vegetable under his teeth feeling like little fireworks in his mouth. He licked the glaze off Tony's fingers, relishing in the salty tang his skin added to the flavour.

The meal went on that way, Tony eating with obvious pleasure then feeding bits to Steve under the table like he was a beloved dog, sneaking scraps. The meat was juicy - not dry like he'd feared - the spices just enough zing to make his lips tingle. The potatoes were delicious, their skins an earthy contrast to the soft, creamy flesh.

He'd really made that? Steve preened, leaning his head heavily against Tony's thigh. He hadn't thought he could do it, but he had, and it was wonderful. Maybe Tony would let him cook for him again. Maybe it wouldn't have to be during one of their weekends, but Steve could just invite him over for dinner as Tony had done for him and Thor so many times… but Thor wouldn't have to come…

Steve drifted in the safe simplicity of opening his mouth and letting Tony place food on his tongue. He closed his eyes after a while, leaving his mouth open between bites, ready and waiting.

There was a rattle of cutlery above him, then a glass of wine appeared at his lips, followed by a glass of water. Steve drank gratefully, not realizing how thirsty he was until he tasted it. But he didn't have to worry about anything like that because Tony knew, and Tony would take care of him.

The next morsel was a surprise, the sharp nip of cheese, firm and aged. He let it roll around in his mouth, licking his lips clean before opening for the next, a sweet grape. They worked their way through the entire cheese and fruit plate that way, then, without a word, Tony undid his pants and fed Steve his hard cock next. Steve thrummed to find that Tony was already red and leaking, realizing that the feeding had him hard too, but so high on Tony that he hadn't noticed. He swallowed him down more eagerly than he had dinner, rolling his tongue around the head then sinking down until his nose touched the curly hairs at the base.

This time, Tony let him move, fingers twisting roughly in his hair as he bobbed up and down. It was a heady relief, after being denied all morning by the pool. Steve's cock throbbed between his legs, suddenly insistent. He burned with the need to touch himself, even after three orgasms earlier in the day. To stop himself from giving in to the urge, Steve clamped his hands on the arms of Tony's chair, squeezing until the wood dug painfully into his palms. 

Tony fisted both hands in his hair and took over, thrusting up into his mouth while Steve tried desperately to keep from spilling drool all over the floor, swallowing hard and moaning with every thrust. Tony's cock pressed deep down his throat, cutting off his air, before sliding back again over his tongue. The salty tang of Tony's precome chased away their dinner until all he could taste was Tony's skin, Tony's come,  _ Tony, Tony, Tony. _

"Shh," Tony soothed, and Steve realized he'd been trying to sob out Tony's name, throat convulsing around his cock. "You're so good for me, baby. Just hold on. I'm - ah!" Tony slammed Steve's face down into his crotch and thrust up, cock pulsing on his tongue as he shot straight down Steve's throat.

Tony groaned and pulled back, leaving a streak of come along Steve's tongue, and over his bottom lip. He pushed his chair back then bent down and petted Steve's hair and face. "You can clean up from dinner tomorrow. I want to keep you like this."

Steve hummed, pushing himself up to his feet. He wobbled, or he thought he did, then he realized he wasn't wobbling, Tony was, but Steve's eyes were so fixed on him, he thought he'd been the one to list violently to the side. Tony caught himself against the edge of the table with a loud rattle. Steve pulled up out of the haze. "Tony?"

Tony waved a hand dismissively. "Nothing. Sorry, my dear. Lost my footing. Too much wine." He grinned. "Get my book from beside the pool then meet me up on the balcony."

Steve frowned, feeling like something was going over his head, but he had no choice but to do as Tony said. He went outside, feeling incredibly exposed on the pool deck, naked but without Tony, and grabbed the book. He could still taste Tony, grateful that he'd saved his cock for dessert so he would linger on Steve's tongue instead of the food.

The "balcony" was actually a second deck, built ingeniously into the side of the bungalow's roof. Steve gazed out over the treetops, really processing for the first time how far they were from anyone else, how safe and private he was here.

It was a while before Tony appeared, but Steve waited patiently, still too loopy to find the energy to get antsy. When Tony did show, he had his sunglasses on, even though the light was already nearly gone, and he sunk immediately into the chair beside Steve. He was too far away, not touching him, but Steve wasn't allowed to ask for more, so he settled for curling his body in Tony's direction.

"Read to me," Tony said softly. "There's a bookmark."

The story was hard to follow since Tony was already more than halfway in, but Steve didn't care. He focused on each word in turn, keeping his voice steady and clear, and the little half-smile that quirked Tony's lips every now and then out of the corner of his eye. 

After several chapters, Steve blinked his eyes clear and realized he'd been straining to read in the dim light. Tony had been still and quiet for a while, but when Steve stopped, he stretched with a groan. "I'm wiped," he grumbled. "Bed time."

Steve wasn't tired at all, but he followed Tony down the stairs and across the living room to the bedroom. Tony sent him into the ensuite bathroom first, where he brushed his teeth and washed his face. He turned to look at his back in the mirror, but to his disappointment, it wasn't even tinged with red from Tony's whip. Back to his smooth, even skin. 

When he came back out, Tony was back in just a robe and nothing else, his clothes tossed carelessly in the hamper. He smiled at Steve and patted the bed. "Get comfortable, I'll be right back."

Steve sprawled across the bed, stretching out long until his muscles ached. His cock was hard, standing proud above his stomach. It was unlikely he'd get sex tonight - Tony had already come twice today and his libido wasn't anywhere near as insatiable as Steve's - but that knowledge only made him antsier. He squirmed on the cool sheets, longing for a touch. He was hard enough that he could probably bring himself off before Tony even reappeared from the bathroom, but he wouldn't. He waited. He probably wouldn't sleep at all tonight, but he'd wait on this razor edge until Tony gave him permission to come. 

Tony came out of the bathroom clean and smelling like mint. He dropped the robe and crawled over Steve, teasingly naked. He pressed a heated kiss to his lips as Steve skated both palms down Tony's sides. But when Tony sat back, he was still soft, and Steve couldn't help the small sigh that slipped out. 

Tony arched an eyebrow. "Disappointed in something, darling?" He drew his gaze slowly down Steve's body to his proud, red cock. "Ahh… or eager for something." Tony reached out and drew a finger down the length of Steve's cock, making it twitch and jump towards his hand. "Hmm. I'm feeling decidedly lazy, but that doesn't mean I won't enjoy a little show." Tony sat against the footboard, tucking a pillow behind his back. He was facing Steve, at his feet, legs crossed. "Spread your legs."

Steve could feel every thump of his heart in his chest. He folded his knees and spread his legs wide, baring himself to Tony's intense gaze. 

"What a view." Tony licked his lips. "Get the lube from the drawer."

Steve stretched across to the bed to where Tony kept the bottle, hyper aware of the way the movement made his muscles cord and stretch. He could feel Tony's eyes on him like search lights, scanning every inch of his exposed skin. 

"Put some on your right hand and stroke your cock," Tony demanded. "Slowly."

Steve squirted the lube in his palm then wrapped his fist around his cock, sighing with relief at the warm touch he'd been craving all day. 

"That's it," Tony crooned, the praise shooting straight south. "A little faster."

Steve obliged, letting his eyes slip shut and focusing on nothing but Tony's voice and the sensation of his slick hand stroking his cock. 

"Put more lube on your stomach."

Steve opened his eyes again, confused by the demand, but he complied, squirting the cool liquid just below his belly button. He caught Tony's eye, looking for answers there, but the were dark and shaded where Tony sat.

"Don't stop stroking." Tony shifted, and Steve could see his own cock jutting proud. "Get the extra lube on your other hand and finger yourself. Start with two."

Steve's pace stuttered, the sudden drop in pleasure as his grip relaxed the only thing startling him back into rhythm, stopping him from freezing completely. He'd only done that to himself twice - once when Tony had ordered him to get himself ready to be fucked, once, alone, shamefully trying to recreate the feeling of Tony stretching him wide, hitting deep. It had been shortly after their second weekend together, the one where Steve nearly punched Tony several times; the way he  _ talked.  _ Just before, he and Jan had tried a relationship again, stupidly, and when it failed, inevitably, Steve had found himself more alone than he'd ever felt before. Tony had taken him away for three days, and Steve had only felt worse once he'd returned to his dark, empty apartment.

He'd wanted that feeling of being full, of being taken, again, but he had no toys - the thought of  _ buying  _ something… so in the midnight-dark of his bedroom he'd slipped his hand down between his legs. 

But it had felt so wrong, so dirty, too rough and too slow all at the same time. It hadn't felt the way it did when Tony touched him, and thinking about Tony touching him only made it all that much worse. In the end, Steve had rolled over onto his stomach, shoved both arms under his pillow, and fallen asleep with a frustratingly needy erection.

But now Tony wanted him to do the same, while he watched. 

"I -" Steve started, searching for an excuse. He couldn't say he didn't like it, he clearly did, when Tony was the one to do it, but he knew he wasn't going to enjoy this. He was caught between wanting to do as Tony said and wanting to put on a good "show" for him. 

Tony leaned forward until the light caught his eye. "Do it," he said sharply, and Steve swiped his fingers through the lube on his stomach. He spread his legs further and felt behind his balls, his cheeks heating with how awkward and clumsy he must look. 

He pressed the tips of both fingers to his hole and hissed out air between his gritted teeth. It pinched and burned. 

"Shh." Tony's hand landed on his ankle, making him startle. "Steve, darling, you're pulled tighter than Hawkeye's bowstring. Take a breath, relax. Don't just shove them in, take your time. You want to make it good for me, don't you?"

Tony's voice was soft and soothing, and Steve found himself able to let out an easier breath as he continued to talk. He tried to remember how Tony had taught Steve to touch him, even though it felt backwards and the wrong way up. He swirled the tip of his finger around the rim of his hole, not pushing in but easing it open. He knew Tony was watching him closely, and he was on fire with the humiliation of doing this in front of him, but there was comfort in knowing that Tony would stop him if he started to do it wrong. Tony would guide him.

"Good boy. Push in a little, just the tip of one. Your body wants it, it knows what it wants. You'll still be slick and open from earlier, you just need to relax."

Steve let out another breath and felt his body give as he pushed again, both fingers slipping in smoothly, up to the first knuckle. He groaned, long and low. He could feel it now, the rush of unexpected pleasure, the eager way his body begged for more. He gave in, following instinct, and let his fingers sink in until the angle became too awkward to go any further.

"Incredible," Tony murmured. "Don't forget your other hand, gorgeous. Keep pumping that beautiful cock and fuck yourself with your fingers."

Steve followed the orders, gripping his cock tightly and stroking firm and rough, thumbing over the head with each upstroke. The fingers of his other hand plunged into his hole over and over, finding his prostate and torturing it mercilessly. A litany of filth and praise and wonder spilled from Tony's mouth, spurring Steve on. He was surprised Tony wasn't touching Steve himself, but he was still where he sat propped against he footboard.

It wasn't long at all before Steve felt the tingling tension of release fast approaching deep in his gut. He rocked his hips off the mattress, thrusting into his hand and slamming back down onto his fingers. 

"You're going to come for me again, aren't you?" Tony said sharply, and Steve nodded, couldn't stop nodding. 

"For you -" he echoed, tensing up, clenching around his fingers, and then he was coming, spilling over his chest, each upstroke from his hand and press of his fingers coaxing another shot out of him. 

And then Tony moved. He crawled up over Steve, pushing his hands out of the way. He was hard, and Steve couldn't help but preen, knowing that even after two orgasms already that day, just watching him had been enough to get Tony worked up again.

Tony rubbed his cock once through the mess of come and lube on Steve's stomach then pressed the head to Steve's hole, sliding in easily. It only took a few thrusts for Steve to come again, dry this time, as Tony hit a spot deep inside him that his fingers hadn't been able to reach. His cock twitched uselessly against his stomach as it finally softened. This pleasure was more like a hot flush than a firework, rushing up under his skin, heating him; Steve had never had an orgasm like it.

Tony groaned and gripped two handfuls of the sheets next to Steve's shoulders. "God, you're so hot and tight, fuck." Steve clamped his muscles down around Tony's cock, trying to draw his pleasure from him, and Tony cried out. "I'm going to fill you up, Steve. Fuck, I'm coming -" and Tony spilled inside Steve yet again, slicking his slide as he thrust in and out shallowly, panting through his release.

Steve collapsed back on the bed, shaking all over. He couldn't seem to stop. His head spun, even though he wasn't moving. He was surrounded by Tony, wrapped up in him and filled up by him. He didn't know which way was up anymore.

He felt the bed shift, then a rough towel scraped over his stomach, cleaning away the come and lube. A moment later, the light flicked off, and Tony appeared at his side. He pressed a kiss to Steve's cheek then his lips. "Beautiful," Tony whispered, and the word echoed through Steve's chest, settling deep in his stomach where it bubbled and hissed like one of those fizzing candies. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Steve managed, slurred. He rolled over to face Tony, curling a little towards his side. Tony's hand landed on his knee and stayed there, squeezing lightly before going slack. 

Steve blinked at the side of Tony's face in the dark, just able to make out the edges of his features. There was something so steadying about sleeping beside someone, feeling their heat and their heartbeat all night. Jan hadn't liked to stay over at his place too often, but when she had, Steve always stayed up, watching the rise and fall of her chest. She called him a "furnace" wiggling out of his grasp when he cuddled up to her on a hot night, but it was just so much easier to sleep when he could feel soft skin under his hands instead of the cold bite of icewater that haunted his dreams far too often. 

He reached out tentatively and curled his arm around Tony's waist, waiting to be chastised, but Tony merely hummed and shifted a little closer, letting himself be held. Steve wanted to lie awake and enjoy their easy closeness, but it wasn't long at all before sleep claimed him.


	5. Chapter 5

They were twined together when Steve woke, closer than they'd ever been before. Tony liked to touch Steve, to hook his arm around him or take a handful of his hair, while they were awake, but at night, Steve usually slept on the ground, at the foot of the bed, or on one side, if Tony was feeling generous. Tony was surprisingly warm, wrapped as they were in layers of blankets. He usually ran cold, taking opportunities to not-so-subtly steal heat from Steve's furnace-like core.

But this morning, Tony was sprawled across Steve's chest like he owned real estate there, and the arm Steve had hooked around his waist last night had slipped down across his hips. A curl of wrongness twisted through Steve's stomach. He'd held Jan like this, because she asked him, she needed it, but they were men - they didn't need to  _ cuddle.  _

And yet…

The minutes ticked by, and Steve couldn't seem to find the energy to get up. He knew he needed to start coffee and breakfast - Tony would wake any minute - but he was warm and the pillow was too soft and sleep still tugged at his eyelids. 

Tony shifting on his chest shocked Steve back into wakefulness with a jolt. His hand clenched on Tony's hip as a reflex, and Tony chuckled, propping up on one elbow to look down at him. 

"Shit, sorry," Steve mumbled, making to slide out of bed. But Tony pushed him back down flat on the bed and pressed their lips together, hot and insistent. Steve gave in under the kiss, sinking back into the sheets as Tony climbed on top of him. Tony was hard against Steve, his cock pressing firmly into his thigh, and Steve spread his legs, letting Tony settle between him. The weight on his chest was grounding, solid. Tony pinned him to the mattress with no effort at all, and it was so  _ easy  _ to give in to it.

Tony pushed one of Steve's legs up, bent at the knee and his fingers found his hole and teased the rim. "You're still wet from last night," he whispered, voice rough. "You feel that? You opened yourself up for me. I love it when you're all slick and open and I can slide right in." Tony proved he could do just that, pressing his fingers in once then following with his cock.

Steve bit his lip as the head of Tony's cock stretched his hole. He wasn't loose - the serum and a full night's sleep had tightened him up again - but he didn't want to wait for Tony to work him open again. He pushed into the burn and moaned as Tony pressed inside, stretching him open in one long, slow slide.

"Oh god," Steve groaned. Tony leaned down on his chest, his arms forming a cage around Steve that stopped him from lifting his own. He fisted the sheets by his hips and tensed his abs, arching into Tony's deep thrusts to keep from being shoved up against the headboard.

"It's all for me, isn't it?" Tony hissed, lips falling to the curve of Steve's ear, tongue teasing around the edge, soft enough to tickle. "For me."

It was,  _ he  _ was. "For you," Steve echoed. The room felt small and close, no bigger than the space between Tony's wrists and ankles. There wasn't enough air, not enough space to move, to think, to  _ fear,  _ and Steve was close already, just from this. And, of course, Tony could tell.

"Look at you." He was growling now, voice a low rumble against Steve's chest. "You're so needy, Steve. It's a full-time job satisfying you."

_ But you do,  _ wafted through Steve's mind. He tried to stretch his arms out again, but Tony squeezed his hold tighter, pressing Steve's elbows against his sides. It was awkward and on the edge of uncomfortable, but nothing compared to the pleasure that was building in his core. He didn't know how Tony did this, how he managed to make Steve feel trapped and held and owned and used and treasured all at once. "I'm going to come," Steve gasped out, when he realized only a few more thrusts would push him over. "Please."

Tony fucked him harder, forcing Steve's legs to fold up on either side of Tony. "Good boy, begging for it. Come on, come for me," he whispered.

The hot, smooth skin of Tony's abs rubbed against Steve's cock as he arched into the thrusts and he spilled over with a sharp cry. He splattered his chest with come, smearing it instantly between them when Tony didn't back off. 

Tony didn't change his rhythm, fucking Steve through his orgasm, each thrust sending a new wave of overwhelming sensation through him. Steve squirmed on the sheets, locked in Tony's strong hold. Tony drew hot kisses up from his ear, along his jaw, to his mouth, then claimed Steve's breath with rough, needy kisses.

"You're so hot and tight around me," Tony said. His arms were shaking slightly now where they pressed against Steve's ribs. Steve suddenly, desperately, needed Tony to come. He needed the satisfaction of being that for him, bringing him pleasure. 

"Tony." He rolled his hips into each thrust, and Tony's chest heaved with heavy breaths. 

Tony sat up suddenly and pulled free, making Steve instantly mourn the loss. Tony watched as he shot come over Steve's ass, mouth slightly open. Come dripped down the back of Steve's thighs, coating his balls, mixing with the mess of lube they'd both made. Tony stared at him, looking almost awed, and it made something twist in Steve's chest. It didn't seem possible that he could make someone look like that, but Tony proved it over and over.

As soon as Tony had come down from his orgasm, Steve made to get out of bed, expecting Tony to lie back with his phone, but he rose up too. "I'm awake," he said, when Steve shot him a look. "Let's eat breakfast outside."

Tony lay out in one of the deck chairs from the other day while Steve cleaned himself off then made coffee and toast again. His own stomach begged for eggs, but it was easy to ignore. Tony liked toast. So Steve made toast.

Tony gestured Steve onto his own chair this time, the plate of toast on a table between them, framed by two mugs of coffee. Steve waited until Tony handed him a slice then he ate it happily, enjoying the sweet bite of the raspberry jam.

The sun warmed Steve's skin until he was sure it would hide his blush, so when he was done eating, he stood and stretched, giving Tony time to rake heated eyes over his body. Trying to shift his hips in a way that was appealing, thrilling at the idea that he was teasing Tony back for once, Steve stepped up to the edge of the pool and arced a perfect swan dive into the deep end. He swam the entire length of the pool before coming up for air. The water was cool, but Steve's skin was hot so it took a while for the chill to seep through the bubble of heat radiating off of him, but when it did, it felt nice. He snuck a glance up and hid a smile under the water when he saw Tony was watching him.

A few more laps had Steve's muscles singing happily with the exercise, so he pushed Tony's intense gaze from his mind and focused on burning off the energy that inevitably built up in someone who usually worked out four to five hours a day. 

He was pleasantly worn out when he pushed himself up on the deck and shook out his hair - careful he was well clear of Tony. He lay out on the deck to dry, not wanting to soak one of the chairs, then moved up beside Tony when the sun had evaporated the pool from his skin.

They lay like that for a long time, in peaceful, easy silence. Steve almost dozed off when Tony snapped his book shut with a happy sigh. "Not bad. I suppose I'll give the sequel a try." He sat up, and Steve sat up too.

"I can get it for you," Steve offered, eager to please after two hours of focusing on himself in the pool.

But Tony waved a hand dismissively. "Just lie around and look pretty, pet. I'll be right back." Tony stood, and Steve watched him move across the pool deck, but when he reached the doorframe, Tony paused then shifted one staggering step to the side, catching himself with a white-knuckled hand on the wood frame. Steve launched himself across the slippery tile and caught Tony around the waist before he could fall, flying on pure instinct and fear.

"Tony?"

"It's fine, darling," Tony said, his invariably confident voice rough and shaken. "Just give me a hand to the bedroom."

Steve half-guided, half-carried Tony the last few steps into the bedroom and deposited him on the edge of the bed. Tony braced himself with a hand on either side of his hips and dropped his chin to his chest, eyes closed. After a few moments of agonizing silence, Tony raised his head again and offered Steve an unsteady smile. "Can you get me a glass of water?"

It was the question that smacked Steve out of whatever remained of his floating headspace after panic for Tony had already obliterated most of it. He waited for the rush of shame and disgust that always slammed into him when he came up too fast, but he was so overwhelmed with worry that it never came. "Okay," he said, standing and turning towards the kitchen. 

Steve came back with a large glass of water, and Tony took it with a grateful - too soft, too kind - smile and sipped at it carefully. 

"What's wrong?" Steve suspected that this wasn't a question he'd be punished for, but he wouldn't have been able to stop himself from asking anyway.

Tony's smile twisted tight. "It's not a big deal. The new chemo drugs mess with me a little bit. Usually, it's only the first two days after treatment, but this change has made things a bit unpredictable. Sorry, pet." He stroked his fingers over Steve's shoulder. 

"Don't -" Steve cut himself off. It was still too strange to give Tony orders. "Do you need me to call someone?" Someone who knew what to do, how to help.

Tony scoffed. "Don't be silly. Little vertigo. I'll be right as rain in an hour."

"Is there anything you can take?"

"Actually, yes." Tony gestured towards the bathroom. "There's a black, zippered case in the medicine cabinet. Grab it for me?"

Again, the softness of the questions threw Steve for a loop, but he rose and moved to the bathroom. He rummaged around behind mirrored doors until he found the black, zippered case. He hovered awkwardly at Tony's side after handing the case over then sunk to the floor on his knees, not quite able to bring himself to sit on the bed with Tony without being asked. Tony opened the case, and Steve saw a dozen orange prescription bottles. He thought back to the ten minutes Tony spent in the bathroom each night before sleep, rattled. Steve had always assumed he was… grooming. "It's bad, isn't it? You've been hiding this from me," Steve said plainly, the words spilling out before he had a chance to consider how dangerous they might be.

But Tony's eyes didn't flash, instead, he sighed. "Of course I have. It's not exactly why we're here, darling."

"Why are we here?" It came out a little too desperate, but it was too late to take it back. Concern for Tony was mixing with confusion and the mild anxiety that always reared up when Steve came up too quickly without warning. He fought between the urge to put on clothes and the urge to nuzzle in between Tony's thighs and beg to have his hair petted.

He expected Tony to crack a joke, but he gave Steve a weary look instead, and said, "We're here because you're too afraid to ask for this from someone you actually care about." 

The statement hit Steve so hard, right in the centre of his chest, that all he could focus on was Tony thinking he didn't care. "I care about you." How could Tony think he didn't?

Tony merely arched an eyebrow in response.

"I do. I trust you with - this -" Steve gestured awkwardly at the house at large "- and as a teammate. Of course, I care about you, Tony."

"I appreciate that, darling." Tony finally reached out and raked a shaky hand through Steve's hair. "But you know that's not what I meant."

Tony looked surprisingly sad at the idea, and it occurred to Steve for the first time that Steve might not be the only one with conflicting feelings about their weekend getaways. Tony was a hedonist - always up for an indulgence of any sort - Steve had assumed that it was just about the sex for him, that Steve could offer him his body - perfected by the serum - in exchange for getting him out of his head for a few days. But the twist to Tony's lips, the slump to his suddenly tired shoulders, it made Steve wonder - "Tony, are - would you want… Is there something else you'd want from -" Steve stuttered his way out of the question, not entirely sure what he was asking. When Tony merely stared at him, Steve added, "...more?" hesitantly.

Tony opened his mouth then closed it, tilting his chin to the side to consider Steve, still kneeling at his feet. "I'm happy to take whatever you'll give me. You want to meet every weekend? I'll be there."

"That's not -" Steve started, but Tony cut him off with a firm look that was reassuringly commanding. Steve bit his tongue. 

"I'm going to lie down for a little bit to let this kick in." Tony tossed the pill case onto the bedside table. "Set an alarm for twenty minutes, go clean this place up, and when time's up, you can wake me up with a foot rub."

Steve nodded, half-frustrated and half-relieved at the sharp dismissal. He set an egg timer then washed the dishes on autopilot, watching his hand move around and around on the plates without processing what he was doing. For the first time in a while, the real world pushed on the edges of the bubble they'd built here, but, though the intrusion was unwelcome, it didn't make Steve feel as panicky as it had in the past. He kept waiting for his stomach to churn, for the horrible reality of life to slam down on him. He was sleeping with a man, enjoying being bossed around and hurt and used, a man he disliked half the time and lo-  _ needed  _ the other half of the time. And he'd known Tony had cancer, of course, he didn't exactly hide it, but it wasn't  _ real.  _ He didn't have to touch it, deal with it every day.

But none of that was what he kept rolling over and over in his mind.

Tony hadn't told him. Tony had been hiding how sick he was, hiding the pills, the chemo, the side effects. He'd been pretending to be fine when he wasn't, and all because he thought Steve wouldn't like seeing that side of him, wouldn't be able to handle his weakness.

Steve expected to feel disgusted by this - this  _ lifestyle  _ they shared a weekend or two a month, but instead he was ragingly angry that Tony thought he only liked him if he was strong and flawless. Like Steve couldn't carry some of his weight, once in a while.

That was the crux of it, though, wasn't it? The whole point of these little getaways was that Tony carried everything so Steve didn't have to. For the first time, that didn't feel entirely fair.

Steve finished the dishes and dried them then put them away. There was still five minutes left on the timer, so he sat on the plush rug in front of Tony's chair and tipped his head back, staring at the ceiling. His fingers were pruned from being submerged in the water and there was an itchy wet patch across his stomach where he'd leaned against the edge of the sink. Sensations he never noticed when he was back home, alone. 

He turned to stare at the closed bedroom door. He wanted to help Tony, repay him for all the peace he'd given Steve over the past few months. He wanted to shoulder some of his pain as easily as he shouldered his chores, his pleasure. But Tony didn't want that from him, his sharp dismissal had made that clear.

This was anxiety-inducing that was so far from what Steve was used to, that he almost couldn't feel it. It was distant and hazy, a blur of confused upset that poked at the edges of his mind. And usually, when that happened, Tony would notice and put him deeper under, but Tony was sick, and Tony needed  _ him,  _ this time.

The timer went off, jolting Steve up off the carpet in surprise. He hurriedly turned it off so it wouldn't wake Tony too harshly then crossed the room to the closed door. He pushed it open and found Tony still asleep, curled on his side, facing away from the door. Tony had told him to wake him with a foot rub, so Steve perched on the edge of the bed and ran his hand up Tony's ankle, gripping the joint gently until Tony groaned and rolled over. 

"That's lovely, darling," Tony breathed, sounding entirely like himself again. He pushed his foot into Steve's hand insistently, and Steve started rubbing, grinding his thumbs into Tony's arch. Tony stretched and flexed, almost purring as Steve worked his way up the bottom of Tony's foot to his ankle then repeated it over his other foot. 

When he'd rubbed Tony into a puddle on the sheets, Steve rested his hands on both ankles, still painfully tense himself. "Are you okay?" he asked hesitantly. 

Tony's eyes shot open and pinned Steve in place. "Yes." He sat up, pulling his feet away from Steve's hold. "Kiss me."

Steve leaned in obediently and pressed their lips together. Tony broke the kiss too soon and pushed Steve back with a hand spread across his chest. "What else can I do?" Steve asked. There was something heavy and unspoken in the room that was making him feel off-kilter.

"You want to help me, darling?"

There was a whip-crack on the end of Tony's sentence that made Steve tense in anticipation. "... Yes."

"Good. I have work to do, and sleeping during the day always makes me feel stupid. I need you. Come on." Tony stood, no sign of his earlier unsteadiness, and Steve followed after him. It was reassuring that Tony was back to his cool, confident self. Steve didn't know how to be the one fetching water and pills when he was being asked instead of told. Tony led the way into his private office and pointed imperiously to the space in front of the desk. "My desk chair is horrible. It puts a crick in my back. Hands and knees, in front, there. I think you'll be much more comfortable."

Steve tripped to a halt. Tony wanted to use him as  _ furniture?  _ He opened his mouth to say something, to question it, but he caught Tony watching him, something like challenge glinting in his eye and Steve froze. Tony smiled at him, as if he was waiting for the protest. Steve grit his teeth and swallowed back his uncertainty. He could do this.

He walked over to the desk and dropped to his hands and knees, shuffling around and adjusting until he was sure he was comfortable. He had no idea how long Tony intended to work for, and he didn't want his wrists to give out on him. 

Tony's weight landed on his back. He shuffled around until his tailbone wasn't digging into Steve's spine, then Steve heard him murmur, "Good boy," and his keyboard began clicking.

Steve stared down at the carpet and felt a familiar throb between his legs. It was disgusting and degrading that he should get off on this - it wasn't like it was sexual at all - but Tony was  _ using  _ him, using him for his own comfort, his own desires, and apparently, that was all it took, because Steve was half-hard and vibrating with tension. He focused on staying still, knowing Tony would be bothered if his seat shifted around too much. 

It would be a long time before the strain was too much for his muscles, but he felt his mind begin to ache right away. Surely wanting this was a sign of something horrible and broken in him? No one normal enjoyed being sat on, did they? Maybe the ice had damaged him beyond repair, frozen the part of his mind that kept dark desires like this locked away. 

Yet Tony knew, without asking, that Steve would kneel here, getting harder, for as long as he asked. If Steve was so faulty, how did Tony know? Maybe it wasn't the ice, and Tony was just messed up in the same way.

Steve let his head fall down, hanging loosely between his arms. Tony was sick, really sick; Steve had seen the reality of that up close and personal for the first time. Tony was the one who was broken, whose brain was actually under seige, and he was the one truly suffering. What was a filthy fantasy played out between two consenting adults in the face of a tumour that was slowly devouring Tony's mind? And how could he judge Tony for wanting this too when Tony sacrificed so much to try and give Steve what he needed, worked tirelessly to push these buttons that it seemed Steve couldn't ignore? 

It was the same circle he'd spun in a thousand times before, but for the first time, the guilt that curled through his stomach was for Tony, not for himself. Tony was sick… maybe even dying, and Steve was using up what precious time he had doing something that Steve told himself over and over he didn't even want. It was horribly unfair.

Tony's hand landed on his back, petting down over his ass and then back up to the base of his spine, and Steve relaxed under the touch unconsciously. Even as he fought it, his mind sunk into the easy, underwater-softness of Tony's command. Time fuzzed. He couldn't think anymore, as much as he wanted to puzzle this out. Everything was Tony again.

Steve softened under Tony's weight, eyes falling shut even as his cock throbbed harder. This was easy and simple: just be.

He didn't know how much time had passed when Tony's phone rang and instead of switching it off, he answered it. 

"Yes, dear?" Tony's voice sounded weird up above Steve like that, the vibrations as he hummed thoughtfully running all the way down his spine and into Steve's back. "You're kidding me." He sighed. "That's not what we agreed on at all."

Electric humiliation zipped down Steve's spine at the thought that the person on the phone - probably Tony's assistant - might know what was happening. It didn't make any sense that she would - how would she? - but Steve's traitor brain couldn't help imagining how it would feel if she walked into Tony's office instead of called, found them like this. Shocked first, then appalled, even disgusted. Steve's skin heated, and he swallowed heavily. She worked for Tony, though, he could command her not to react. Maybe she'd come in and treat Steve as if he really were furniture, ignoring him completely. 

He twitched and a tiny gasp leaked out; Tony's hand smacked down on his ass sharply. 

"Yes, yes, I know it wasn't your fault," Tony said into the phone, as if he hadn't just spanked his own chair for daring to move. "I'll go over the email chain and write something up for Monday. Oh, I know. Mhm." Tony laughed. "Okay, you do that. I'll see you in the office tomorrow afternoon. Yup. Bye, darling."

Tony's fingers clacked over the keyboard again. 

The window spilled afternoon light on them, and a sweat broke out on the back of Steve's neck. He started to feel a bit of the ache of holding them both upright, but he breathed deeply and slowly, eyes closed, and it wasn't long before he vacated his body entirely, floating happily in the pool again, or maybe in the sky. Time stretched on… hazy and quiet and easy.

The weight disappeared from Steve's back, and he startled up with a gasp, wondering if he had even been breathing at all for the last several minutes. Tony stretched tall with a groan and frowned down at his sweat-sheened skin. He crossed the room and clinked glasses and bottles together as he fixed himself a drink. "Steve? Go get me a bath ready. There's a blue bottle on the side of the bath. You can add some of that to the water. Make sure it's really hot. Come get me when it's ready."

"Okay." Steve stood too, a little shaky himself. He made it to the bathroom, muscles groaning as they shifted and stretched after being tensed for so long. He started the water running, as hot as he could handle, then stretched his arms above his head and worked the kinks out of his back and neck. He felt beautifully grounded and floating at the same time, like he was steady and unshakable, but untethered to his body all at once, watching contently while it moved about, fussing with the blue bottle. He watched the water pour into the tub, mesmerized, and startled up when after what felt like mere seconds, the water was already threatening to spill over the edge. 

Steve stepped back outside to find Tony on the couch, phone in hand, scowling. "It's ready," he said softly, not wanting to interrupt him, but not wanting to risk the water cooling too much by waiting.

"Hmm?" Tony looked up, brow still creased, then he relaxed. "Oh. Right. Thanks. One minute."

Steve returned to the bathroom and settled on the plush bath mat, hands folded in his lap while he waited.  When Tony appeared in the doorway, he still looked tense and unhappy. He dropped his robe to the floor and stepped in, his eyes falling shut as the water lapped up around his legs. "Ahhh," he groaned. "That's perfect, darling." He sunk down into the water.

Steve tucked a folded towel behind Tony's head as he settled down. "Thank you."

Tony's hand came up out of the water and found Steve's jaw. He stroked along his cheek then down behind his ear to his neck, one damp finger tucking under the edge of the collar and tugging along it. "I'm sorry I've been working so much this weekend," Tony mused.

Steve frowned, not sure that it was more than usual. "I understand."

Tony sighed and tipped his head back, eyes falling closed. The room was filling with heavy steam and the subtle spiced scent of the liquid Steve had added to the water. 

Impulsively, Steve took a washcloth from a stack by the towel rack and dipped it into the water. He took the hand Tony had been petting him with and started to clean him meticulously, starting with his fingers and working his way up his hand.

Tony hummed. "Lovely…"

With a task to focus on, Steve felt more grounded. He turned every ounce of his attention towards carefully cleaning Tony from head to foot. The only noise in the room was the occasional dip of the washcloth into the water and Tony's appreciative hums and murmurs. Continuing on from the foot rub earlier in the day, Steve washed and massaged his way up Tony's legs, over his stomach and chest and along each arm. He cleaned his neck and behind his ears. There was a bottle of shampoo in the shower stall, so Steve climbed onto the tile enclosure around the tub and stuck his legs in the water on either side of Tony. He eased Tony's head back then dipped his hair into the water. He took a dollop of shampoo and worked it into Tony's hair, focusing on steady, rolling motions of his thumbs along the tense muscles of Tony's neck. 

Tony's groans, the warm water, the hazy steam-filled air, acres of Tony's naked skin pressed against him had Steve hardening again, despite himself. He shifted so his erection wouldn't poke against Tony's shoulder and tried to focus on the task at hand. 

But when Tony was clean, hair washed, and Steve had nothing more to do, he couldn't ignore it anymore. Neither, it seemed, could Tony. He turned and smiled, quirking an eyebrow up at Steve before twisting around to lick up Steve's length. His mouth was hot and wet, and Steve bit his lip hard enough to hurt to keep from grabbing Tony's head and fucking into his mouth roughly.

Perhaps sensing that desire, Tony sucked him slowly, teasing around the head with his tongue. His eyes were bright and dancing when they flicked up and met Steve's. Steve arched back on the edge of the tub, gripping it hard enough that it would dent if it weren't the high-quality fittings that were all that was good enough for Tony Stark.

Tony took his time, clearly in no hurry, but Steve was tumbling inevitably towards the edge at top speed anyway. There was something about Tony's mouth, something bewitching. He was so clever with his tongue, so hot and wet and tight. Steve had never felt anything like it. He poured all his focus into keeping his hips still, knowing that if he kicked forward and choked Tony, he'd be left unsatisfied in punishment. 

"Tony," he whimpered, fingers starting to ache with their grip. 

Tony pushed deeper in response, swallowing around the head of Steve's cock. 

A string of embarrassing curses spilled from Steve's mouth as he came down Tony's throat. Tony kept swallowing, come and spit leaking from the edges of his lips as he took it all down. Steve watched helplessly, toes curled in the water as Tony sucked him dry then backed away, licking his lips. 

"Oh my god," Steve rasped out. 

"Did you enjoy that?" Tony asked.

"God, yes."

Tony sprawled back in the tub, legs spread. "Well, then, don't you think you should be polite and return the favour?"

"I - okay. Yes, Tony." Steve pondered for a moment, then shuffled around until he was at the other end of the tub, sat by Tony's feet. He let himself enjoy the hot water for a moment then wriggled around, trying to find a position that worked. Tony, it seemed, had no more commands, though he watched Steve with a sort of wry amusement as he tried to arrange himself.

The tub was massive - it was Tony's house after all - and there was more than enough room for both of them. Steve settled on his knees between Tony's legs, the water lapping up around his chest. He looked down to where he could see Tony's skin flickering in and out of sight under the floating bubbles.

He caught Tony's challenging eye one more time then took a deep breath.

The water cut off the sounds from the room - the hum of the fan, the steady hush of Tony's breathing, the lap of the water. Steve stroked Tony's cock once with his hand then closed his lips around the head. He kept his lips wrapped tightly around to keep the water from leaking in, hollowing his cheeks and sucking as hard as he dared. 

He'd taken a big breath into his super-powered lungs, and it would be a long time before he needed another one, but even so, Steve used every trick he knew to get Tony off as quickly as he could. He didn't want to have to stop too many times for more air.

He bobbed down again and Tony's hand appeared on the back of his head, fingers twining through his wet hair. Tony didn't press, didn't hold Steve underwater, but he understood anyway:  _ stay as long as you can.  _

It was awkward, trying to lick and suck as Tony had taught him with the water squeezing into his mouth at every opportunity, but it was a challenge too, and one Steve wasn't going to fail at. 

Tony's legs clamped to his sides, squeezing and releasing as Steve sucked him down to the base. Between Tony's legs and the fingers that stayed wound through Steve's hair, he felt trapped, caged underwater. Adrenaline flooded his veins and he focused on keeping his heartbeat calm and slow to conserve oxygen. It was a thrill, not being able to breathe, trusting Tony to release him when he couldn't take it anymore. It wasn't like Tony was actually strong enough to hold him there, but the illusion was enough that Steve couldn't help moaning around Tony's cock as it pressed against the back of his throat. 

He worried, briefly, that it wouldn't feel good, that the sensation would be too confused by the hot water, but then Tony's hips thrust forward, making Steve gag, and his fingers tightened in Steve's hair. Steve imagined the words that would be spilling from Tony's lips - the praise, the guidance, the absolute filth. It was so easy for him…

Now that he knew Tony was enjoying it, Steve redoubled his efforts to get him off, sucking and massaging Tony's cock with his tongue. His lungs burned with need, screaming at him to surface, to breathe, but he knew he could hold on a little longer. He could feel every thunderous beat of his heart in his chest.

When he couldn't take it anymore, Steve pressed up against Tony's hand, struck with the terror for a moment that Tony wouldn't allow him to surface, but the hand relaxed and Steve burst up through the water with a gasp.

He sucked in grateful breath after breath, curling his hand around Tony's cock and stroking, in the hopes that his tongue wouldn't be too missed. 

Tony was lounging against the back of the tub, slid down until the towel Steve had tucked behind his head was unfolding and trailing in the water. His eyes were half-lidded and he grinned at Steve when their eyes met. "Feels good," he hummed, and Steve flushed hot with the easy praise.

He dove back in as soon as he could, his head still spinning a little. Tony's legs clamped around him again, thrusting shallowly into Steve's mouth as he hallowed his cheeks and sucked, keeping the water out. He bobbed up and down, the hot water wafting around the back of his head. Cool air hit his ass, and he realized it was sticking up out of the water - and what a depraved view that would be for Tony. Steve curled in on himself, ashamed, but there was nowhere for him to move in the cramped space of the tub, and he was forced to keep his ass thrust up in the air if he wanted to keep sucking Tony off.

And, boy, did he ever want to keep sucking Tony off. It was almost a disappointment when Tony's legs started to quake against his shoulders - and when had it become so easy for him to tell when Tony was close? Tony gripped his hair hard now, jerking Steve's head up and down in time with his thrusts. Steve's lungs were burning again, but there was no way he'd back off now, not when Tony's movements had become shaky and desperate, not when he could taste the rush of precome when Tony's cock slid back across his tongue. 

It was strange, not hearing the cascade of words that always spilled from Tony's mouth when he came, and without that warning, Steve startled when Tony shoved him down and starting throbbing on his tongue, come mixing with the water that had leaked into his mouth. He stayed down as long as he could, swallowing and sucking Tony clean, then jerked back against Tony's hold, no longer able to convince his oxygen-starved body to stay below the surface. 

His first clear breath felt like an orgasm of his own, and he slumped down against the cool ceramic of the tub enclosure and pulled gasping breaths into his aching lungs. 

"Good lord, don't you look amazingly debauched," Tony said with a cool chuckle. He pulled his foot out of the water with a splash and ran it over Steve's chest.

Steve couldn't help turning to look in the mirror that hung over the sink opposite them and - wow - Tony wasn't kidding. His cheeks and neck were bright red, parted lips swollen and pink. His hair clung to his face in dripping clumps, and his chest heaved. Debauched didn't seem to begin to cover it.

Steve turned a little, knowing he'd be disappointed even as he moved, and sure enough, the marks from Tony's whip were completely gone, not even a mottled pattern of red to indicate where they had been. He relaxed back against the other side of the tub, legs wound with Tony's, and they sat for a long time in what became, to Steve's surprise, very comfortable silence.

Before the water could cool too much, Tony eased them both out of the tub. Steve dutifully toweled Tony off, making sure he was dry all over, his hair springing up into a wild mess when Steve rubbed it with the soft terrycloth. He gave himself a cursory once-over then followed Tony back out into the living room. He fetched a clean robe when Tony asked, and they settled in for the evening.

They ate leftovers from Steve's cooking out on the balcony that night, side by side at the table in a way that made Steve painfully aware he wasn't at Tony's feet. Tony still chose food for him, still slipped mouthfuls between Steve's lips himself, but it was the beginning of a process that would end tomorrow - Steve coming back up.

Back up to the tension and anger and pressure of normal life. 

Tony offered him a book after dinner, but Steve shook his head. He curled up on the floor by Tony's lounge chair, chin resting on his hands by Tony's knee, and watched him read while he still could, while he had this excuse. 

When the sun set, Tony took a tub of ice cream from the freezer and made Steve feed him spoonful after spoonful before smearing it across Steve's chest and licking it off. The cool bite of the frozen treat made Steve gasp every time, followed by the hot swipe of Tony's tongue. Tony sucked him off again with an ice cold tongue and Steve cried out when he splattered come over Tony's tongue and lips. Tony hauled him in for a kiss mixed with another bite of the sweet ice cream then pulled Steve forward until he could sink down on Tony's cock and ride him until he was gasping and coming too.

Sticky and come-covered, they rinsed off quickly in the shower before bed. Tony urged Steve up on the pillow beside him, mumbling something about needing his furnace-like body heat, even as his eyes were drifting closed. 

Steve lay still and quiet in bed beside Tony, but for him, sleep wouldn't come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S. from Ferret: If you like this, I'm auctioning myself off for Marvel Trumps Hate. You can come bid on me and maybe win a Ferret fic for a good cause! www.marveltrumpshate.com/auctions/400-festiveferret/


	6. Chapter 6

Steve stared at the ceiling in the dark of the bedroom, watching the slight shadows from the trees outside rock and sway across the plaster. They were going home today. In a few hours, Tony would wake up, they'd eat breakfast together but sitting at the table, side by side. Tony would take Steve's collar off, tell him to take a shower, give him his clothes back…

Steve's stomach churned. 

He didn't want his clothes back, he didn't want his phone back, and he didn't want to get in that car alone and drive back to his empty apartment in the city. 

He turned to take in the soft edges of Tony's face, barely discernible in the meagre moonlight that snuck between the curtains. It didn't seem right that Tony would be the one he wanted - maybe he just wasn't trying hard enough to fall in love with the girls who wanted to date him - but he couldn't deny anymore that staying here at Tony's side for the foreseeable future was more appealing than, well, pretty much anything.

The guilt was still there, and the disgust, but they felt separate from Steve, for the first time, like weights sitting on his chest instead of iron coils wrapped inside it, squeezing his lungs. This was a pressure he could ignore if he had to. He pulled in a long breath and let it out with a sigh. 

When sleep continued to refuse to come, Steve slipped out of bed. He wandered around the house, looking for something to clean, but the place was spotless. Something twitched at the back of his mind, the thought that Tony wouldn't be pleased that he was up and out of bed, but he rebelled against it, wanting whatever punishment Tony would dole out. Maybe he'd keep Steve here longer to really punish him properly.

Steve scowled at his own stupidity. He couldn't  _ goad  _ Tony into trapping him here. Tony had to go back to his life too. Besides, why would he want to stay here babysitting Steve indefinitely? Tony had a life, Tony had people, girlfriends… boyfriends, probably.

Steve's feet carried him outside, and he sat down on the edge of the pool, the tile sharply cold against his bare skin. The crisp air was mind-clearing though. 

He couldn't really kid himself anymore, couldn't pretend. He kicked his feet in the water, swirling a stray leaf in the whirlpool he made. Everything had to come to an end eventually, didn't it?

**

Steve didn't notice the sun coming up until he heard the soft patter of bare feet crossing the tile. Tony's ankles appeared in his peripheral vision. "Ah," Tony said, and Steve knew he'd seen the collar he clutched in his lap, removed from his neck himself. Steve rubbed the pad of his thumb over the heart-shaped pendant.  _ Steve.  _

It had always felt like a cruel joke before, part of Tony's bent towards humiliating him - a heart to mock the shameless, loveless acts they engaged in together. But now, that didn't feel quite right.

"Did you go into a store and buy this?" Steve asked, avoiding the real subject at hand as deftly as Wasp dodging a bullet.

"Online, darling. You can get anything online. I custom ordered it."

"Oh."

Everything was silent until Tony sat down on the pool's edge next to Steve, legs crossed instead of in the water, robe tumbling down around him. "You okay?" Tony asked.

"No." Steve turned the collar over and over in his hands. "I have to - I have to give this back to you. And I can't ask for it again." He didn't move to hand the collar back, and Tony didn't reach for it.

Tony sighed, but he didn't sound surprised. "Yeah…" He turned away to look out at the treetops.

Anger surged up, hot and acidic, and Steve turned on Tony. "You don't even care?" He shook his head and dropped his eyes to the pool again. The cold water was starting to make his feet ache, but he ignored it. "Fine." He tried to find the strength to toss the strip of leather into Tony's lap, stand up and walk away, but he didn't. He stayed where he was. 

"You want me to care?"

"I just thought, I don't know. I used to think you got something out of this too." Or maybe, more accurately, he'd never cared before that Tony might not.

Tony laughed coldly. "Oh, Steve. I wouldn't do it if I didn't. I get something out of it, alright. But I can hardly be surprised that you're trying to end this  _ again.  _ You've always got one foot out the door, always trying to put how you feel about this on me, as if I'm somehow responsible for you wanting to go to your knees, for you getting off on sucking cock."

Steve's skin heated unpleasantly, and he shuffled where he sat, the rough tile digging into his bare ass. His fingers curled into a fist around the collar, but he shook it out again. "I'm a soldier. I shouldn't want pain. It's not right."

Tony sighed again. "I could go on about needing to take control of your pain, about needing to find a way to own a body that doesn't feel like yours. I could tell you about the psychology of kink or how much more common and normal this is than you think. But none of that really matters, does it? Because you deserve to feel good, Steve. And if this makes you feel good, who cares why? If you're not hurting anyone, if we both agree to it, why not enjoy yourself however you want?"

_ But I am hurting someone,  _ Steve realized in plain words, for the first time.  _ Maybe two someones. _

Tony's voice softened. "I love every minute of what we do together, really. But I won't tie you here, Steve. I can do a lot of things for you, but that isn't one of them. I can't lock the collar around your neck, I can't take away your right to consent, to refuse, as much as you wish I would." He made a soft noise too close to an unsteady sniffle for Steve's liking. "I love nothing more than having you at my feet, open to anything I want, but if you're not willing to go down in the first place…" He shrugged then held his hand out for the collar.

Steve's fingers clenched around it, apparently unwilling to give it up just yet. "You really love it? I was starting to think you just did this for me, now." But he knew the answer before the words tumbled out of his mouth. He needed to hear Tony say them anyway, it seemed.

Tony laughed at that. "I guess you hardly know me at all. I'm not that altruistic, I promise you."

Something churned unpleasantly in Steve's gut. This wasn't how he'd envisioned this conversation going. He was supposed to be leaving, ending this. He  _ was,  _ he  _ would.  _ But though he'd imagined over and over, as he sat here in the fading dark, that Tony would say okay and snatch the collar back, toss the pendant in the pool to be easily replaced with another heart, another name, he'd never really believed that was true. He hadn't wanted to prepare for any other outcome, any harder outcome. Rejection was easy. Disappointment… was not. "But you could get this from anyone," Steve said, almost desperately. His fingernail scratched over the "S" in "Steve".

Tony turned towards him, and Steve could feel his eyes scraping over his face, studying him uncomfortably closely. "No…." Tony said. "No, I really couldn't." When Steve didn't say anything, Tony sighed again.  _ "You _ can pay people for this, you know. There are clubs you could go to, very high-end, exclusive ones with airtight NDA policies. I can help you find one you'd be safe at."

"I don't want that," Steve mumbled at his lap. He didn't know what he did want, but that certainly wasn't it, and it wasn't just the fear of exposure. It wouldn't be right… with someone else. It wouldn't  _ fit.  _ How would they know what Steve needed?

"What do you want, darling? Because that's all I want to give you, but you keep moving the goalposts."

"I don't know." Water rippled around his calves, and Steve realized he was shaking. 

"Shh," Tony soothed. He wrapped an arm around Steve's shoulders and pulled firmly until Steve tipped over into his lap. "Don't drop now, pet. We've had such a good run."

"I'm not," Steve said petulantly, but he felt like he was an inch off from the rest of the world, like a superimposed copy of an image, but slid slightly to the left, half of one of those red and green 3D pictures. Tony's fingers ran firmly through his hair, and Steve sunk into the touch, body heavy. "I sometimes think about what it would be like," Steve managed to get out, his tongue charging on without his mind's permission, "if we didn't have to be a secret. If we - if we went back to the city together."

Tony's hand stilled. "You do?" He ran his thumb over Steve's cheek. "What does it look like?"

It wasn't the question Steve had expected to be asked. He thought Tony might laugh, might call him crazy. But Tony looked down at him so softly, and honestly curious, and the collar was twisted between his fingers in a way that was grounding and everything spilled out. "It's not like this all the time," Steve said. "Sometimes we're - we're on equal footing, but we still eat together, still watch TV together. No one cares if I spend the night at your apartment. You - you have a guest room or maybe…"

"Maybe we could share?" Tony prompted.

"Yeah. And I could take you to your doctor's appointments, if you need someone to go with you, and you could… you could be this for me." Steve twisted the collar again, the pendant hanging heavy against his palm. "Sometimes I think about what it would be like to kiss you with my clothes on," Steve admitted quietly into the growing dawn.

Tony was quiet for a long time, but his fingers kept up their gentle petting. Then he pushed at Steve's shoulder. "Okay, up. You're going to freeze out here."

Steve let himself be guided up to his feet then back into the house. "What time is it?"

"Five-thirty."

"Oh." Steve winced. "Sorry."

Tony hummed thoughtfully. "I thought something might be wrong when I rolled over and you weren't there." Tony pushed Steve into the bedroom and grabbed a towel from the bathroom. He urged Steve back onto the bed then dried his legs meticulously. 

Steve watched Tony rub the towel over his skin and thought he ought to feel embarrassed to be naked in front of him without his collar on, but Tony had seen so much of him - all of him maybe - that it barely registered at all. It wasn't entirely clear what had just happened. Was this their last time together? Steve wanted it to be… that was what he'd decided while he waited for Tony to wake. But now that he was here in front of him - His hand squeezed the leather in his grip and he wrapped his fingers around the gold heart again. 

Tony stood and walked out of the bedroom, leaving Steve perched awkwardly on the edge of the mattress, one hand clasped around the pendant, the other twisting nervously in the sheets. He didn't know what he was supposed to do, except that he wasn't wearing the collar anymore so he  _ should  _ know what to do. It wasn't up to Tony anymore. Maybe Tony would punish him for taking it off. Maybe he was off getting a whip to mark up Steve's back again, or his thighs, pinning him back on the bed and drawing lines up his legs until he wanted to squirm away but wouldn't.

But Tony reappeared with an armful of Steve's clothing, and Steve's breath evaporated out of his lungs. Well, that was it, then. Tony would call his driver, and Steve would leave, and he'd never come back. His throat tightened. He left the collar on the bed, stark against the white sheets. He took his clothes and turned away as much as he could while he slipped his boxers and khakis on, then his shirt. The fabric was rough and restrictive after a whole weekend without, and he tugged and plucked, trying to get comfortable. 

Steve turned back towards Tony, opening his mouth to say… something, anything. Sorry? Goodbye? Thank you? He didn't know. But he didn't get a chance to say whatever words were piling up on his tongue, because Tony cupped his jaw with one hand, pulled him close, and kissed them away. Tony was firm and insistent, brushing his tongue across the seam of Steve's lips, angling his chin down to slot their mouths together just right. Tony drove the kiss, but it was still different than any kiss they'd shared before. It wasn't claiming or demanding, he merely guided Steve gently into the shape he wanted him to be, fingertips soft on his cheek instead of bruising. He kissed Steve like there was nothing in the world he wanted to do more, and Steve had never been kissed like that before.

"That's what it feels like to kiss me with your clothes on," Tony said breathlessly when he pulled back. His thumb pressed against the edge of Steve's jaw. Steve caught his eye, stunned, and  _ shit,  _ Tony looked so sad. It hurt more than every mark Tony had ever put on him to be the one to make him that unhappy. "I've got it pretty bad for you, Steve Rogers," Tony whispered in the scant space between them. "I think you could ask me for pretty much anything and I'd agree to it. If you want me to leave you alone, I will. If you want me to call you back here in two weeks and pretend this conversation never happened, I will. If you want to come to my apartment, eat my food, watch my TV, share my bed… I would love that. Collar or no. I want you, all of you, but I know this isn't easy for you, so I won't ask you for it. But if the time comes when you want to ask me? Know that I'll say yes."

Steve was frozen to the spot. He couldn't parse Tony's words into something that made sense. It sounded like Tony wanted them to be together, properly together. Even though Steve had voiced that very fantasy not twenty minutes ago, a part of him still rebelled at the thought, angered, disgusted. It wasn't what men  _ did.  _ It wasn't what he should want, so why was Tony indulging him in it?

Tony stepped away, allowing a rush of oxygen to flow in in his wake, and Steve sucked it into his lungs gratefully. 

"I'll call the car," Tony said, not meeting Steve's eyes. "They won't mind coming early."

He turned to go, and Steve panicked. His heart pounded, flushing adrenaline through his veins, and he snapped out and snatched Tony's wrist, stopping him from leaving. Tony spun on his heel, eyebrow cocked, and Steve stepped forward and wrapped his arm around Tony's back. "That's not what I meant," he said, crowding Tony up against the doorframe, watching his eyes going wider and wider. "I wanted to know what it was like for  _ me  _ to kiss  _ you."  _

_ "Steve," _ Tony gasped out.

Steve bent down and found Tony's lips again, pushing the kiss the way _ he  _ wanted it this time, soft and sweet at first then increasingly heated. There was so much he couldn't say, didn't know if he'd ever be able to say, but if this was his one shot to show it, he had to show it all. He clutched Tony to him, shuddering when Tony's hands found fistfuls of his shirt, then tasted the curve of Tony's bottom lip. 

Steve rocked back on his heels, breaking the kiss reluctantly and giving Tony space to breathe. He took Tony in; he'd never seen him look like that before. Two spots of pink coloured Tony's cheeks, his eyes were wide, and his chest heaved with weighty breaths. So that was what kissing Tony Stark really felt like. "Oh," Steve breathed. 

"Steve -"

"Will you ride back to the city with me?" Steve tightened his grip around Tony's waist. "I don't want to go back alone."

"Okay…" Tony nodded slowly. "Will you come over for dinner on Wednesday?" Tony shot back, swallowing heavily. "Just you. No Thor. No Ultimates. Don't - Don't say yes unless you mean it."

Steve nodded too, even as his hands shook with nerves. "Yes."

Tony's smile bloomed slowly, and his fingers came up to rest against Steve's jaw, petting lightly back and forth. His eyes flickered with a light that settled like a handful of firecrackers in Steve's stomach. He dropped his hand until his thumb pressed lightly into the dip of Steve's throat where the gold pendant had weighed all weekend, fingers curling like the band of leather around the side of his neck. "Good boy," he whispered, and, maybe for the first time, it felt like well-earned praise.


	7. Chapter 7 (Art)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "He could still see the panic, understand the shape of it, but it was like a photograph, just out of view. Irrelevant."


	8. Chapter 8 (Art)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Tony pressed firmly against Steve's back, and he could feel every inch of him, firm and unyielding. One hand circled his throat and he swallowed against the light pressure."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! You can visit us on tumblr at festiveferret.tumblr.com and one-and-five-nines.tumblr.com <33


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